“What in tarnation are you wearing, dear Captain?” Higlim almost shouted at Captain Alinyaln, who had just returned from his shopping trip with Syrin. They had been gone for far longer than Alinyaln had anticipated, Syphys the smaller moon finishing her path before the sun, bringing the day back to its full brightness.

  Alinyaln looked down at himself. The outfit, chosen by Syrin, wasn’t too different than Alinyaln’s previous clothes. “It’s not really me, is it?” He smiled as he gave a small spin for the crew present, Higlim, Drags, Ninia, and Letno the Cloud Crafter, making a rare appearance outside of her cabin. Alinyaln saw the leather cord around her neck, and remembered Tyrnarm wearing one as well. If it was a Crafter thing, he would have to ask Syrin at some point why she didn’t wear one.

  The outfit itself was a blood red coat--a shade darker than the one he usually wore which made him uneasy--with silver buttons up along one side, each carved with letters of the Sisim script that read “Mercy.” The coat ended at the back in two tails. Syrin had asked to work on the coat before they left the store, and she had inlaid the Mercy’s flag design, that of a feathered turtle, on the back of the jacket that illuminated in the sunlight.

  “Not the coat, fool man.” Higlim huffed. “The hat.”

  Alinyaln reached up and grabbed the hat. This part, unfortunately, had been the part of the outfit that he had no say in. It was a tricorn hat, predominantly black but with a dark green trim which contrasted horribly with the coat but Syrin had insisted, since it brought forth Alinyaln’s ties to Sisim.

  “Admittedly,” Alinyaln said with a sigh, putting the hat back on his head, “This is one of my worst choices. I hate hats.” He muttered, but he shrugged. “But perhaps it’ll grow on me.”

  Syrin walked up and put her arms around Alinyaln, “I think it looks just dashing!” She said, adjusting it so the hat sat on his head properly, which was also the position that made it feel as though it would crush his skull. That would go away, the tailor had said, once Alinyaln wore it more.

  “It’s a fine hat, Captain.” Ninia said with a smile.

  “Thank you lass.” He said, returning the girl’s smile. “Now, this isn’t even the worst of it.”

  “Oh, you.” Syrin sighed, then turned around. She had set a large bag on the ground behind them, which she now dug into. Finding what she had been looking for, Syrin pulled out a slim dress of modest make, no frills or dazzle to it at all in a vibrant pink color that hurt Alinyaln’s eyes in the sunlight.

  She tossed the dress to Ninia who barely caught it out of the air. “What’s this?” The girl asked, holding it up.

  “It’s a dress.” Syrin said, stating the obvious.

  “And I need a dress… Why?” Ninia asked, confused.

  “Inside of the tailor’s shop I was talking to this lovely couple from Retin who mentioned a party happening in three days, held by the noble family of Myailin.” Syrin explained. “If Tyrnarm is here, or has sold slaves here, we could find out really easily from the guests there, as they’re the ones who would be buying the slaves in the first place.”

  “I also think the nobility in general might be a clue.” Alinyaln said, shaking his head. “Remember that chest of fine clothing we salvaged? Maybe nobles are going missing and we just haven’t noticed.” He had never quite decided what the chest they had recovered meant. Were the clothes from nobles, slaves, or some combination of the two? And why only a handful of garments, what about the literal thousands of other slaves that were purchased? He decided it didn’t matter, since the result was the same: It brought him further along the path of hunting Tyrnarm.

  “What’s my part in this?” Ninia asked, her voice sounding uncertain.

  “You’ll…” Alinyaln trailed off, a sour look on his face. He knew Ninia would hate this.

  “You’ll be our servant.” Syrin said plainly. “I know it’s not to your liking,” Ninia was making a face at that very moment, “But in Siston there is a tradition of three going to a party, all wearing matching colors. Man, woman, and servant, though sometimes the servant role is taken up by a child of the man and woman, but that’s not very common.”

  “I—I don’t know if I can do this, sir.” Ninia said quietly.

  Alinyaln stepped up to the girl, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Lass, I need you for this.”

  Ninia didn’t respond.

  “There’ll be food.” Higlim said, nudging Ninia with his elbow.

  Ninia smiled at the man. “Alright, fine.” She said. “But only for the food.”

  “Excellent!” Alinyaln said, clapping his hands together.

  “What will you be looking for, Captain?” Letno asked quietly, far cooler than her usual demeanor.

  “Any influx of slaves, severe spending from acquiring said slaves, anything.” Alinyaln said firmly. “It’s not much to go off of but if you and Syrin say Tyrnarm was here then he must have left some sort of trace.”

  “We’ll be going as a wealthy merchant couple from Arsin on vacation and we heard about the party from a friend.” Syrin explained.

  Ninia looked up, pulling her eyes away from the dress that she was holding as if it would bite her. “Why Arsin?”

  “No one should be able to recognize us here.” Syrin gestured to herself. “I wasn’t blue the last time I was in Siston, and Alinyaln didn’t have…”

  “I was a different man, then.” Alinyaln said, not wanting to discuss his horrible past.

  “Most people from Arsin don’t like to go out to sea.” Higlim supplied. “Few port towns on the entire continent, eh?”

  Alinyaln pointed at Higlim. “Historically the Arsnatn people have spent very little time seafaring, which would make it easy to come up with a fake identity and backstory that could pass from basic scrutiny.”

  Letno crossed her arms. “I’m sorry Captain, I don’t know if this will work. In three days a lot could change.”

  “A lot could change, yes.” Alinyaln said. “But it’s a good step. At the very least, we’ll have fun. Higlim, you can train the girl, yes?”

  “Aye, Captain!” Higlim gave Ninia a smirk. “More time with me, eh, Ytinnia?”

  “You have experience as a personal servant?” Ninia asked the cook.

  “I was not always a cook on a ship, Sninia.” Higlim said, then he stood up and pulled Ninia along by her arm, steering them away from the group.

  *

  “Again!” Higlim roared with laughter, holding his belly as Ninia desperately tried to keep the books balanced upon her head, wobbling horribly.

  Ninia strained, keeping her back and neck as straight as possible, sweating profusely in the sweaty confines of the hold as Higlim had begun to use the oven. An oven on a ship wasn’t very common for obvious reasons, but Higlim didn’t seem to worry. Perhaps it had something to do with the lack of a fire’s glow in the chamber, but it still radiated heat. Despite there being no fire within the oven, a long poker had been rested against the side, metal tip making contact with the iron surface.

  Yaskin, the would-be slaver, was laughing as well, back against the hull of the ship as Ninia made a fool of herself. The man was healing quite well, most of the burns had been reduced to scars and his leg wasn’t splinted any longer, though it was probably far too soon for him to be walking great distances. Ninia tried to not feel any anger at the man laughing at her.

  The topmost book of the three upon her head began to slide, teetering precariously in the balance. It slid forward and fell hard on Ninia’s foot, her leather boot providing little protection as it crushed her toes. The pain made her jerk back, causing the other books to slide off as well, falling down and hitting her in the back.

  “I’m done!” Ninia yelled, kicking the first book that had fallen against the wall so hard that the spine broke in several places., the dried leather giving up the pages it once held.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Peace, Yinnia, First Mate Kiara wouldn’t like you breaking her books like this, no?” Higlim said, calming himself down at her outburst, but he was still red from humor. He stood up and gingerly bent down to grab the book from the floor, inspecting it as he rose.

  “Why do I even need to do this?” Ninia asked, taking a deep breath then picking up the other two books that had fallen. She was still hot with anger, face flushed. Her heart even seemed to be beating far harder than it should. “I won’t be balancing books on my head during the party, will I?”

  “Posture.” Higlim said, obviously declaring the book ruined for he opened the oven and tossed it in. Flames began to crackle from the pages, the only sign the oven was truly alive. “And balance. Something most kids are taught young if they are chosen to be servants.” His lilting accent became thicker as he talked on the subject.

  “Any chance to not look like a cursed fool is one you ought to hold onto for dear life.” The slimy voice of Yaskin came from the cell. Those words were almost supportive.

  Higlim handed Ninia a fresh book with flat covers. Ninia took a deep breath and accepted it, then placed the volume on her head. A few seconds passed with little movement, then she was able to move her body without disturbing the book. “I’m doing it!” She said, looking upward as if she were able to see what she was doing, but the book wasn’t quite in her field of view.

  There was a thump and a shock ran through Ninia’s skull and teeth, causing her already tired legs to give out and she stumbled to the ground amidst four books. She looked around her head, noting that she had only put a single book on her head, where had these others come from?

  She laid there for a long minute, listening to the cackling laugh of Yaskin. Higlim, to his credit, only watched as Ninia fought to regain her composure. “This is hopeless,” She whispered to the room, giving up. The wood beneath her was nice and cool, and if she closed her eyes the sounds of the bilge beneath almost sounded hypnotic, begging her to sleep.

  “Enough breaks.” Higlim said after a few minutes, having allowed Ninia her rest. He held out a gnarled hand to the girl who opened her eyes and stared at it.

  “Can we do something else?” She asked, pleadingly.

  “Yes we can, lass.” Higlim said. Ninia lifted her hand up and Higlim pulled her to her feet. “Come, I am your master, how would you sit me at the dining table?”

  Ninia remembered this from the day before. She pulled the chair out from the table, then gestured to it as if to present the chair to Higlim. The cook, as limber as ever, plopped himself down into the seat, which Ninia then had to push with all of her weight just to push Higlim’s legs underneath the table, assisted by the man hopping in his seat to help her along.

  “Good enough, Snisia, we don’t want to break the chair, no?” He said, then stood up perfectly fine as his legs hadn’t made it beneath the table. “I think you will be fine not learning to give your masters their food, that’s the duty of the house staff, so instead I want you to stand again.”

  “Again?” Ninia asked, chagrined. “Didn’t I just try that?”

  Higlim nodded, “Aye, you did, lass.” The man waved his hand dismissively. “But that was about balance, this will be about patience when standing.”

  Ninia stared at the man, eyes growing dry as she hoped her loathing seeped out at him.

  Approaching Ninia, Higlim grabbed her and rearranged her body, back straight, knees slightly bent forward, head and neck straight. “Perfect.” He said, nodding in approval. “Now, stand for one hour.” He held up a gnarled finger.

  “I don’t see why this is necessary.” Ninia sighed, slouching once Higlim’s back was turned. “I’ll be standing around a bunch of other servants, I’m sure they don’t…” Higlim turned and looked at her, giving her a look of profound annoyance. “I… Alright, fine.” She said, resuming the pose.

  “Excellent.” Higlim said with a smile. “One hour starts now.” He pulled a container of flour out of the cabinet and mixed it with the barest amount of water, kneading with his gnarled hands.

  “You’re going to cook now?” Ninia asked, her stomach growling.

  “A good distraction.” Higlim said with his back turned. Between the heat, the snide glances from Yaskin, and now Higlim’s cooking, there were enough distractions for her.

  “This isn’t fair.”

  “No talking, Quietia.” The cook said with a chuckle, keeping his back turned.

  Ninia’s body began to ache as she stood there. I guess that’s why Higlim wants me doing this, Ninia thought to herself. So I don’t think about the aches as much, it’ll be second nature. But not in an hour. “Tarnation,” She whispered to herself, too softly for the cook to be able to hear.

  “I thought the man told ye not to speak, girlie.” Yaskin chided from the corner, watching her intently.

  “Lass,” Higlim warned, turning around to look at her. “Remember, distractions.” He said. After about ten minutes, Higlim finished mixing the flour and the water together into a large ball of gloop. He nodded at it, then waved to Ninia. “Don’t move!” He called to her, making his way slowly up the stairs.

  Ninia stood there, keeping her attention focused on the side of the hull, looking at the swirls of the wood’s grain and identifying where the different planks had been cut from the same part of the tree, grain matched but not running in a continuous pattern.

  Her ruminations were disturbed by the slimy voice trailing down her back; “I don’t understand how you’re going to let something as simple as standing break you, girl.”

  Ninia kept her eyes forward toward the wall, but she could hear the man stand up and shuffle at the bars, using them to support the weight on his bad leg. The fact that the Captain still hadn’t let the slaver go was galling to Ninia, as the pride that the Captain earns himself by allowing Yaskin to stay and heal was nothing compared to the filth that Yaskin contributed.

  “You’re not gonna amount to nothin’ to no one.” Yaskin said after a few minutes. Ninia could feel sweat coming from her brow. Where was Higlim? Why had he left Ninia there alone with Yaskin for so long? What if the man tried to escape right now, just thinking that Ninia was a helpless girl?

  I wasn’t so helpless when I killed your friend, Ninia reminded herself, bringing a smile to her face.

  “Why are you even here, girl?” He asked. “Did you get swept up by the charming Captain, hoping to be part of his crew like that blue haired bitch, thinking that your life will be set if you sleep with an important enough man?”

  “Shut up.” Ninia whispered, mostly to herself, using all of her self control to keep the position.

  “Oh ho! The child finally speaks against me!” Yaskin barked a laugh. “Yer the reason I’m even stuck in this cursed cell, you know. If you’d just let me gut your pretty Captain none of this would have happened.”

  “You’re a disgusting man.” Ninia said, glancing at Yaskin. “You were trying to take advantage of a horrible situation by subjugating more people into slavery.”

  “And what of your beloved Captain, girl?” Yaskin’s voice was drawling. “What of the man who had so many Yishks aboard his ship he couldn’t keep track of where they were? Who abandoned how many in Tusana afterwards because he wanted to have his girl with him?”

  “Shut up!” She shouted, her face growing red hot. What was it about this man that she wanted to—Wanted to—

  “Come on, girl, open up this cell and do something.” He goaded. “I think the cook leaves the key in the top drawer over there.” Yaskin pointed to the drawers next to the oven, still radiating heat into the din of the hold.

  “We should have left you for the gulls at the Dead Hills. It’s better than you would deserve.”

  “Yet even your cursed Captain wouldn’t do such a thing, right?” Yaskin asked quietly, voice dripping with implication. “I don’t think yer Captain is even a real man. He had me tortured, you know, ripped and maimed by that monster. The Captain didn’t even ask me the questions, he just wanted to stand behind those stronger than he is like a scared little girl—”

  Ninia broke posture and stepped to the oven where a long metal pole was leaning against it, taking in heat from the dangerously hot oven. Blood was rushing in her ears, if she was thinking rationally she’d wonder why Higlim had left this strange fireless oven burning so hot without him to attend it. The poker was scalding hot in her hands so she held a different section, mildly cooler to her skin. She spun and approached Yaskin who only smiled a toothy smile.

  “Ye wouldn’t have the guts.” Yaskin said joyfully. “Killin’ me won’t do you any good, girlie.”

  Ninia held it in both hands ready to strike through the bars. She raised it behind her and swung down right where Yaskin’s face was, a startled look crossing it as she called his bluff.

  But then she staggered, the metal rod coming free from her hands as it had remained in place. She caught herself before she could fall, the stench of stale booze hanging in the air around her like a fog. Ninia looked to see Timphinny standing there, holding the hot poker in his bare hand.

  “This is a bad move, lass.” Timphinny said plainly, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol. “The Captain wouldn’t want you to.”

  Ninia wanted to argue, but her mind caught up to what she was doing. Phinny was right, Alinyaln wouldn’t want Ninia to take her anger out on Yaskin like this. But there was a part of her that knew that she could have killed Yaskin, and that she wouldn’t have felt bad for his loss, only for the anger of the Captain.

  “Leave the lass alone, slaver.” Timphinny said to Yaskin, pointing the poker at him.

  “Or you’ll do what, drunkard?” Yaksin snorted.

  Timphinny, in a feat of dexterity that Ninia would never have expected from the drunk, struck Yaskin’s fingers that had been wrapped on the cell bars, one crunching from the force of the blow. Yakin shouted in pain, the act of recoiling from the bars made him collapse onto the ground, holding his broken finger to his chest as he whimpered.

  “Get back in yer stance, lass.” Phinny whispered, Ninia hearing Higlim shuffling down the stairs. “I’ll talk Higlim down.”