Chapter Eleven
Rillie
As Maeraria’s ship rocked back and forth in the waves, Rillie struggled to hold onto the walls. She gasped as the ship pitched violently to one side and she went hurtling across the small room before crashing into the opposite side. The pain was immediate but Rillie didn’t cry. She bit her lip and sniffled, rubbing her wounded thigh that had caught the worst of the impact.
Rillie had been with Maeraria and her men for a little over a week. Each new day brought horrors untold – just a few hours ago, Maeraria had told her that they were soon to be docking in Jhal. Although the idea of leaving the ship was tantalizing, Rillie was horrified to discover that each day meant moving further and further away from Zheka – and Baelan.
“Jhal is a prosperous place,” Maeraria had said, tossing her mane of dark hair over one scarred shoulder. “You should please me well.”
Rillie hadn’t replied. Some small part of her had begun to hope for mercy – after all, Maeraria was human, wasn’t she? She’d thought that perhaps after a few days as a captive, Maeraria would begin to warm to her. But if anything, Maeraria seemed more vicious than before. Rillie sensed that she was jealous. While Rillie could reduce a large crowd of boorish men to meek babes with just a few bars of a song, Maeraria relied on power and brute strength.
Flint had become the only man on the ship whom Rillie could speak to. It was odd, given how he’d threatened to drown her when they’d first met, but Rillie knew she couldn’t exactly be choosy about her companions. Flint had begun coming down to the hold of the ship every night with scraps of extra food for Rillie, and sometimes a word or two.
“By the gods, what kind of mess have I gotten myself into,” Rillie said out loud. The sound of her voice was almost strange to her. For a moment, the ship seemed to calm. Rillie put her face against the soaked, briny wood of the hold and closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of rot and salt. Her dress was hanging loosely on her body – despite Flint’s best attempts, she was losing weight at an alarming rate. Her teeth ached and while she hadn’t had the chance to see her own reflection since boarding Maeraria’s ship, she knew her hair was greasy and her face was pale and wan from spending so much time in the cargo hold.
“Rillie? Are you there?” Flint’s growly voice sounded from the other side of the door.
“Aye,” Rillie called back. She frowned – she didn’t like how her first reaction was happiness. She winced as Flint unbolted the door, for the iron bolt and lock was squeaky and the sound was shrill and painful.
Flint stepped inside with some food wrapped in a dirty piece of cloth. “Looks like a big storm ahead,” he said. “Maybe we won’t make it to Jhal.”
Thank the gods, Rillie thought. But she knew she couldn’t admit as much to Flint. Instead, she forced a smile. “Thank you for the food,” she said.
Flint nodded. He handed it over and Rillie was dismayed to see the rations were even more dismal than usual – one measly piece of salt pork and a piece of what she surmised to be bread, although it was rock hard and grey and lumpy. Nonetheless, Rillie began gnawing at the salt pork with her teeth, shredding it into small dry pieces and choking them down.
“Is there any water?” Rillie asked softly. “My throat is so dry.” She thought for a moment. “And if I do not have water, I won’t be able to sing.”
Flint laughed. “You’re a crafty one, aren’t you,” he said. There was a note of approval in his voice. He sighed and sat down, leaning against the damp boards. “I wish I could give you some water, Rillie, but Maeraria has forbid it. We are running low on our stores.”
Rillie nodded. She felt like crying. After forcing down the bit of salt pork, her mouth was so dry that it stung.
“But I have some, right here,” Flint continued. He passed Rillie a cedar flask. “Don’t drink it all,” he warned. “You’ll get sick and throw it back up again, and that won’t help either one of us.”
Rillie tried to be conscious of Flint’s warning but the cedar-scented water tasted fresh and sweet. She gulped a few greedy mouthfuls before passing the flask back over to the gingery man.
“Thank you,” Rillie said. Her stomach felt full and swollen. It seemed almost miraculous to Rillie that after such a short time, she was already accustomed to small meals.
“Forget what I said,” Flint said, leaning forward and smirking. “I’m sure we’ll make it to Jhal. There hasn’t been a storm yet that we’ve not been able to sail through.”
How lucky for me, Rillie thought. She nodded. “Aye,” she said. “I am sure Maeraria wouldn’t like the chance to forgo any money earned.”
For a moment, Flint looked stunned. Rillie wondered if he would slap her for her impertinence. But to her surprise, he burst out laughing. He threw his head back, exposing a mouthful of yellow teeth, and cackled, rubbing his belly.
“Aye, Rillie, that is too true,” Flint replied. He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps it will be good for you.”
“What,” Rillie asked crossly. “Singing from dawn until dusk, for crowds of men that I’ve never seen before in my life? How could that possibly be good for me?”
Flint didn’t answer. He raised an eyebrow at her instead.
“What? No,” Rillie cried loudly. “I could never do that – I wouldn’t steal!”
In fact, she’d been thinking about doing just that. The previous few days, she’d sang on the docks of a small town. Men and women and children had gathered to see her. As usual, the men were spellbound. The women eyed her with a mixture of envy and pity, and the children flocked about, laughing and giggling. Maeraria had left her for hours at a time, but Rillie hadn’t stopped singing. And once, an old woman with yellowing, loose skin and no teeth had pressed a solid piece of silver into her hand, whispering what Rillie had taken to be a warning in a foreign tongue. But as soon as the men had escorted Rillie back to the hold of the ship, Maeraria had appeared and demanded the silver piece.
“I couldn’t,” Rillie said, shaking her head. “She…she knows, Flint. She sees things that no one else can see.”
“And yet, you have a strange talent,” Flint replied. He rubbed the gingery scruff on his chin and exhaled loudly, spitting on the floor.
Rillie tried not to make a face of disgust. “Aye, but she is not affected,” she replied. “It doesn’t matter what I sing – Maeraria won’t be taken under.”
Flint eyed her and narrowed his eyes, frowning. “Perhaps that is true,” he said slowly. “But still, it seems to me there could still be a way, could there not?”
Rillie shook her head. “I do not know what you mean,” she said honestly in a soft voice. “Flint, this is my destiny. This is…this is the life I have chosen.”
Flint laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Why did you do it,” he asked slowly. “Tell me, Rillie – why did you drive us away? You know, we likely would have let you go. As soon as we killed your friends, at least.
Rillie doubted that was true, but she declined to say so. “I had to,” she said. As she spoke, Baelan’s face flashed across her mind. “I didn’t have a choice.”
Flint laughed at this, too. But his laughter was harsh and knowing, the laughter of a man who has known nothing but a hard life. “Of course you had a choice,” he said. “You just made the wrong one!” He shook his head, as if in disbelief. “Rillie, you are young yet.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “And do not resign hope right now – you do not yet know where your path in life will take you.”
Flint’s breath was astonishing foul and Rillie struggled not to cringe as she listened to his words. It was strange – he looked like an unkempt heathen, how could he be so wise?
“It’s the truth,” Flint said. He looked satisfied with the advice that he’d given, and he leaned back and spat again, tossing his head arrogantly.
“What made you choose this life?”
Flint shrugged. “I was arrested for stealing,” he said, shaking his head and laughing. “And sent to the stocks. They gave me two choices – either rot in a prison cell or join Maeraria. The choice was easy,” he continued. “And now my life isn’t very difficult at all, save for the odd storm or two.” He chuckled. “And whatever ship you were on – wherever you were going – I’m quite sure those men know nothing about sailing.”
Rillie flushed. She knew Baelan and his friends were inexperienced sailors. Somehow, the news frightened her. What if Zheka abandons all naval plans, she thought as her heart began to thump in her chest. What if Baelan stays on shore forever, and I never see him again? Part of her was angry with Baelan – at the very least, he could’ve jumped into the sea and rescued her! But Rillie knew that wouldn’t have been possible. His captain would have disciplined him for that, perhaps even killed him. And then where would she be?
“Yes,” Rillie said stiffly. “It’s a very new navy.”
“And let me guess – you’ve got a man in it.”
Rillie blinked. She hadn’t expected to come across as so transparent.
Flint chuckled again. “You don’t need to say it,” he said, waving his hand in the air. He smirked at her and leaned back. “You’re too skinny for me, anyway,” he added. “And despite being a thief, I’m not a rapist.”
Rillie forced a smile. That didn’t exactly make her feel any better – just because Flint clung to some kind of notion as to what made a man good, that certainly didn’t mean anyone else on board Maeraria’s ship did as well.
Flint got to his feet and wiped his hands on his damp trousers. “I should be going,” he said. “I’m on deck all night.” He heaved a sigh. “Rillie, if you get a chance, you should look at the stars from the middle of the sea. It makes you feel like nothing else.”
Rillie pointed to the lock on the door. “I doubt I’ll get the chance,” she said drily. Then, remembering her manners, she added: “But thank you for the food. I appreciate you helping me. Without you, I’d likely be dead.”
Flint snickered. “You’re welcome,” he said. Then he closed the door behind him and bolted the lock.
Now that she was alone again, Rillie felt herself sinking into the same pit of gloom that she’d inhabited before Flint had shown up. He certainly wasn’t the most stimulating company she’d ever enjoyed, but even talking to a half-dead man would’ve been more palatable than sitting in the cargo hold of a pirate ship and staring at the walls.
Closing her eyes, Rillie curled up on the damp floor and hugged her knees to her chest. Maybe, in the morning, this will all have been a dream, she told herself as she began to feel lightheaded and drowsy. Maybe, in the morning, I’ll wake up and I’ll be with Baelan.
--
“Get up!”
Rillie groaned and struggled to open her eyes. Her limbs were sore and stiff and cold and she felt locked into place.
“You lazy wench! Get up!”
The sharp words made Rillie blink in confusion. When she felt a sharp cuff on her shoulder, she scrambled into a sitting position and closed her eyes.
Maeraria was standing there with her hands on her hips, glaring down at Rillie.
Oh, no, Rillie thought as her heart began to slam into her chest. Flint betrayed me! He told the captain what awful things I said about her!
But to her surprise, now that she was awake, Maeraria smiled down at her. It wasn’t a warm smile – and the sight of her teeth was a ghastly one – but Rillie was surprised all the same.
“I have a surprise for you,” Maeraria said. She gestured towards a small cedar trunk that had been set down next to Rillie’s sleeping figure.
Rillie didn’t move.
“Open it!” Maeraria said loudly. She frowned again and shook her head. “You’re a stupid one, aren’t you,” she added, narrowing her eyes and tapping her toe on the floorboards of the ship.
Rillie scrambled forward and fumbled at the latch of the trunk with weak, trembling fingers. When the lid was lifted, Rillie saw a variety of bright silks in a pile inside.
“It’s a gown,” Maeraria said. “And it’s for you.”
Rillie pulled the gown out of the trunk and glanced down at it. While it was much better than the now-tattered dress that she still wore, it was hard not to notice the gaudy, bright pattern. Stripes of cobalt and crimson adorned the skirt, and the bodice was a bright golden-yellow. Bright green and purple embroidered stars decorated the sleeves and Rillie noticed the neckline was astonishingly low.
“Excuse me,” Maeraria said. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”
“Oh, yes,” Rillie said. She sank into a lazy curtsey, dipping her face to hide her expression.
“And you will change into that dress, and wear it today,” Maeraria said. “For we have arrived at Jhal, and I expect you to do very well.”
Rillie nodded. She could feel that the ship was only rocking very gently in the waves, and now that she was alert and paying attention, Rillie could hear laughter and song from people. We must be at a very large harbor, she realized as she clutched the gaudy silk dress to her bosom.
“Hurry,” Maeraria said sharply. “It is already halfway through the day, and I wish to make as much coin as possible.”
Seeing that Maeraria wasn’t about to leave her in privacy, Rillie turned her back and shed her soiled dress. She desperately wished for a basin of hot water in which to bathe or even a comb for her greasy hair. But she pulled the silks on without complaint, fumbling at the tight laces that secured the bodice.
“Not very pretty, but it will have to do,” Maeraria said. She reached forward and grabbed a hank of Rillie’s hair, twisting it painfully away from her head. Rillie winced in pain and tears came to her eyes but she didn’t protest as Maeraria twisted her hair into a complicated knot at the top of her head.
“Now, wash that grime off your cheeks and I’d say you’re presentable,” Maeraria said. She stepped back, obviously pleased with her handiwork.
Rillie forced a smile. Her head was throbbing from Maeraria’s indelicate touch, and she could barely breathe in the tight gown – it had evidently been sewn for someone much smaller than she – but she knew she didn’t have a choice.
“Ma’am?”
Maeraria turned around. “Yes, wench?”
Rillie lifted the hem of her gown and showed her bare feet.
Maeraria grinned viciously. “You have no need for shoes or slippers,” she said, tossing her mane of black hair. “As you shan’t be going very far.”
Rillie’s heart sank. As Maeraria turned back around and began walking out of the cargo hold, Rillie stared enviously at the rich leather of her boots.
On deck, Flint and the others were busy dropping anchor. Rillie eyed him as she passed by, following Maeraria, but he didn’t look up.
“Come, wench,” Maeraria said. She grabbed Rillie roughly by the elbow and led her off the ship. “Now you will sing for the people.”
There was already a large crowd gathered on the docks. Rillie blinked – the people were unlike any she had ever seen. Their skin was tinged with a faint blueish cast and their eyes were as dark as lumps of coal. They were staring at Rillie with intense curiosity.
“Sing for them,” Maeraria said. She pushed Rillie forward into the crowd of people. The men and women began to paw at her, clutching at her skirts. Rillie was suddenly glad that Maeraria had pinned her hair back in such a tight style.
Rillie obediently opened her mouth and began to sing. She sang one of her favorite ballads – a story about a wicked sorceress who lived in a high tower. And as usual, the men fell prey to her voice. They stared, slack-jawed, with their hands dangling uselessly at their sides and swaying from side to side. Even the women seemed captivated. Their black eyes shone a little brighter and their mouths curled into smiles.
When Rillie had finished the song, she stepped back. No one was clutching at her skirts now.
“Keep singing,” Maeraria hissed into her ear. She poked Rillie painfully hard in the small of her back.
So, Rillie continued singing. She ran through all of the songs she knew until her throat was dry and parched and her jaw ached. The crowds changed as people came and went throughout the day. By the time the sun was setting, Rillie was exhausted. Her bare feet were numb from standing on the cold, wet wood of the dock all day and she didn’t have to look at her reflection to realize that she was badly burned by the sun.
Maeraria came by in the early evening. When she saw the large basket filled with coins and small gifts in front of Rillie, she smiled happily.
“Very good,” Maeraria said. “And tomorrow, we will be moving on to a new land.”
“Where are we going?” Rillie asked hoarsely. Maeraria was clutching a vessel of water and she stared at Rillie as she lifted the skin to her mouth and drank until water dribbled down her chin. When the skin was near empty, Maeraria passed it to Rillie.
“You may drink now,” Maeraria said.
Rillie was too thirsty to care and she drained the skin, squeezing it tightly to get every last drop of water. When she had finished, she saw that Maeraria was still staring at her.
“We are going to a strange land,” Maeraria said. She smiled coldly. “A land called Zheka.”
Rillie’s eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed to the docks.
Maeraria frowned. “Get up, wench,” she said, nudging Rillie in the belly with the toe of her boot.
But Rillie didn’t move.