A Country Falls (Greatest Thief 3) - Chapter 41: Chapter 41

During Part One
All able sailors asked to join the war effort – visit the West Draulin navy office to enlist
The sign was pinned on the door of a fishmonger's shop. Kovin put down the basket he was holding and stared at it. He wasn't a quick reader, but he could do it when he had to. His parents had insisted he learn at a young age.
Then the sign disappeared as the door swung open. "Kovin, lad! What're you doin', then? Got good fish fo' me t'day?"
"Aye, Voray." Kovin picked up the basket and followed the fishmonger into the shop. "Just readin' your sign 'bout the navy."
Voray scoffed. "Not my sign, lad. Navy came 'round 'nd nailed them up. Didn't ask first o' nothin'." He turned sideways to squeeze his ample stomach through the narrow opening that led behind his worktable. "So. What's the catch t'day?"
Kovin hoisted his basket onto the table. "Grounders, mostly. And two—"
"Slashtail!" Voray lifted one of the striped fish out of the basket. "Nicely caught, lad." He cast a quick glance over the basket. "The rest are all grounders, aye? Good, so... I'll give you fifty siyas for the lot."
Kovin crossed his arms. "Can't fool me, Voray. How long we've been doin' this, then?"
Voray chuckled as he put down the slashtail and wiped his hands on his tunic. "How's a hundred sound? I know, tad low, it is. I'd give you more if I had it."
"I need to pay the harbourmaster for the week," Kovin said. "I need more than that."
"Need to pay taxes," Voray pointed out. "All those ref'gees comin' outta Eas' Draulin, navy men been comin' 'round askin' for more money t' support them."
Kovin's hands dropped to his sides. He knew all about the refugees, of course. Anyone working on the port would have seen them. Some had shown up on navy ships, but plenty had sailed across the straits in their own small fishing ships. All of which needed space to moor on the docks, which in turn meant costs had gone up.
"What'm I supposed t' do, then?" Kovin asked. If he couldn't pay the harbourmaster, he could keep his little boat docked. If he couldn't keep her docked, he couldn't fish. And if he couldn't fish, he couldn't provide for himself or his mother. "I need that money, mate."
Voray ducked behind his table and reappeared with a battered metal box in his hands. He cracked it open and eyed the money inside. "What're you payin' the 'arbourmaster?"
"One hundred a week," Kovin said. "But if you give that t' me'n I give it t' him, I can't get food for my ma today."
Voray chewed on his bottom lip as his eyes darted from his money box to the basket of fish. After a moment, he said, "Reckon I can give you one hundred siyas'n you can take one o' the grounders back. Best I can offer." He looked up. "How long we've been doin' this, lad? Know I wouldn't cheat you if I didn't have t'."
As dismayed as he was, Kovin did trust that Voray was offering the best he could. "Hundred and the grounder," he agreed. "Thanks, mate."
Voray counted out the money and dropped it into Kovin's hand, then got to work wrapping up a grounder for him. It was one of the larger ones, Kovin noticed gratefully. "T'morrow," Voray said as he worked. "Try t' bring me more slashtails. Them's popular with the Eas' Draulin sailors, I heard." He held out the fish.
Kovin accepted the damp package. "See what I can do, mate. G'night."
"G'night, lad."
A week later, the sign had changed.
"All able sailors," Kovin read out loud, slowly. "Join the war effort today, earn a navy salary."
Once again, Voray interrupted his reading by swinging open the door. "You starin' at that sign again, lad?"
"They're offerin' navy positions," Kovin said as he followed Voray into the shop. They began their usual routine—Voray squeezed behind his table and poked through the basket of fish. "I'd earn more in the navy than I do sellin' fish."
Voray grunted. "Aye, 'cept you'd also probably die. That's why they're lookin' fo' more Crelan lads, right, 'cause it's a war'n all those Teltish sailors are too scared. 'Sides, if all you young lads go off, who's gonna catch fish? Folks'll go hungry."
"Right," Kovin agreed, somewhat doubtfully. He crossed his arms and waited as Voray finished counting the fish. "Tryin' to get slashtails," he spoke up, feeling defensive even though Voray hadn't said anything.
"Hard to catch," Voray said, nodding sympathetically. "Right, lad, this here's a good basket o' grounders. Can give you seventy-five siyas."
"Seventy-five," Kovin repeated.
Voray shrugged. "Sorry. Grounders aren't worth much these days. If you were gettin' the bigger fish from outta the bay, they'd be worth more."
Kovin fidgeted with his hands, cracking his knuckles. "I can't sail out o' the bay."
"Why not? You've a little ship, aye? You're not fishin' in a rowboat."
"Aye, mate, just me'n my little sloop. Waters get rough out there."
Voray just shrugged again. "Seventy-five, mate. S'all I can do."
"Right." Kovin waited while Voray counted out the money. As he walked out of the shop, the sign caught his eye again.
He thought about the navy and the war as he walked back down to the dock where his little sloop was moored. She was a good little ship. Her hull was covered in flaking red paint, and her single mast held up stained sails. Kovin did his best to maintain her and had always done most of the repair work himself.
He had inherited the ship about two years earlier, from the childless sailor who had owned her. Working for him had been Kovin's first job. He had started when he was twelve, after his father's death. First, he had helped clean and cut the fish. Then, once the older fisherman trusted him, he had been allowed to go out fishing. Kovin had spent every day working to bring back money for his mother. He spent so much time with the older fisherman that he began to feel like family.
Still, when he passed away, Kovin was surprised to find that the little ship had been left to him. The first thing he had done was buy a small tub of black paint, so he could give the little ship a name. The Red Coral. He'd painted it on both sides of her hull as neatly as he could, not realizing that the peeling red paint would destroy his hard work. Now, one side of the ship simply said Red, while the name on the other had flaked away to just say Cor.
He hopped onto the deck and climbed down the few steps into the ship's tiny hold. In a small chest, he had put aside two fish from his catch. Two small slashtails. He picked up the carefully wrapped bundles and climbed back onto the dock.
After a quick stop by the harbourmaster to pay for the Red Coral's place, he wandered through the marketplace. He couldn't afford most of what was available, but finally he saw a stall selling cobs of corn. The young woman running the stall looked friendly enough, so Kovin walked over. He waited while she spoke with another customer, and stepped up to take his place the moment the man left.
The young woman was a farmer, maybe one of those people who claimed both Teltish and Native ancestry. Kovin wasn't sure, but what mattered was that she wasn't a Crelan. Which meant she might have trouble understanding his somewhat garbled Teltish.
He flashed her a grin and made an effort to sound more proper. "Evenin', lass. How much for two cobs?"
"They're five siyas each," she said. "But if you buy five, you can have them for twenty."
Having extra would be nice. They could save them for tomorrow. "All right," he agreed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some siyas, only to realize that he didn't have enough. Not after paying the harbourmaster.
The young woman saw before he could close his fingers over the coins. "You can buy two. That's only ten siyas."
Embarrassed, Kovin was about to agree. Then he suddenly became very aware of the bundle he was holding. "Would you accept a trade, miss? A freshly caught slashtail for five cobs?"
After a moment she nodded. "I'll accept that, if the fish really is fresh. Let me see."
Kovin handed over one of the bundles. Even though he knew it was fresh, anxiety still buzzed through him as she unwrapped the fish. The feelings instantly shifted into relief when she smiled.
"This will cook up beautifully." She rewrapped it and slipped it away under the table. Soon, Kovin was on his way with his fish and a bundle of corn, quite excited about what he had for dinner.
The small house he shared with his mother wasn't too far from the marketplace. It was slightly more expensive than Kovin could really afford, but he was determined to never make his mother have to live anywhere worse. The front door creaked as he pushed through it. His mother was sitting on a cushion by the fire, knitting. She looked up and smiled.
"How was your day? Did you catch lots of fish?" She placed aside her knitting and slowly stood up. She gave Kovin a hug, then reached up to fiddle with his hair. "You need a haircut."
Kovin had been taller than his mother since he was thirteen. It only made him more determined to take care of her. "My hair's fine, ma. 'n fishin' was fine."
"It was fine?" She stepped back, her hands on her hips. "Why don't I believe you?"
Kovin carried the fish and corn over to the small table. "Well, it was. Just that costs are goin' up, right, and Voray can' 'ford t' give me much, is all."
"Maybe I should go talk to Voray 'bout overworkin' you."
"He's not overworkin' me," Kovin replied. "He's not workin' me at all. I could sell t' anyone, we've just got a good deal. 'sides, I know he's tellin' the truth. So." He unwrapped the fish, and then the corn. "Doesn't matter, I'll figure all that out, ma. Look what I've brought for dinner."
She joined him, a delighted smile on her face. "Can't remember the last time we had corn. And so much of it! We'll roast two cobs t'night with the fish." She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss Kovin's cheek. "You're a good lad, Kovin. You'd tell me if there was money trouble, aye?"
"Aye, ma." Kovin didn't like lying to his mother. But he disliked worrying her even more.
"Good." She pulled a box from under the table and picked out a knife. "You prepare the fish," she said, handing him the knife. "I'll husk the corn."
"Aye, ma," Kovin repeated, taking the knife.
All able sailors, the West Draulin Navy needs you! Defend your families from the Deorans!
Kovin watched the navy sailor nail up the newest sign. It was early in the morning. So early he hadn't made it down to the Red Coral yet. He was just stopping by Voray's shop to pick up some of his baskets.
The navy man turned around and gave a start when he saw Kovin standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Interested in enlisting?" the man asked. He was Crelan, but he spoke like a Teltan. He had probably been in the navy for years.
Kovin shrugged. "Haven't decided."
The man tucked the hammer he was holding into his bag. "What's holding you back? You look strong and healthy."
Kovin shrugged again, his indecisiveness even annoying himself. "If I enlist, who's goin' to catch fish to feed the city?"
"There are plenty of older fisherman who can keep catching fish," the navy man said. "We need strong young men for the war. Didn't you hear what happened to East Draulin?"
"They wouldn't cross the straits," Kovin said. It was something everyone was saying, and he desperately wanted to believe it. "West Draulin'll be fine."
"Maybe." The man pulled a sign from his bag and held it out to Kovin. "Think about it. Training, a good salary, and a good job after the war. You could be working as early as tomorrow."
Kovin took the page. Below the letters there was a beautiful drawing of a large tallship. Kovin couldn't deny that he felt drawn towards it. Every Crelan sailor dreamed of working on one of those huge navy ships. And with a navy job would come more money. He could buy his mother a bigger house, get her nicer clothes and better food.
The man clapped Kovin on the shoulder as he walked past. "Whatever you decide, good luck, lad."
"Right," Kovin replied automatically. He looked up, but the man had already moved on to the next shop, hammer in hand. Kovin looked at Voray's front door. Every day, Voray paid him less for the same amount of fish.
Kovin turned and walked back into the city, leaving his baskets behind.
At his front door, he paused. He had made up his mind, but that didn't make the idea of telling his mother any easier. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The familiar creak welcomed him home.
"Ma?"
She appeared in the bedroom doorway. "Home already? What's wrong?"
"A lot of things are wrong," Kovin said. "But there's a solution." His hand shook as he held up the sign. Part of him wanted to look away, but he forced himself to watch his mother's face. He watched her eyes slowly read the words.
He watched as she covered her face with her hands and started to cry.
There were lots of Crelans at the navy office. Kovin joined the line and waited quietly. He was trying to look calm and collected, but his thoughts were racing with things he had to do. Somehow, he had to make sure the Red Coral could stay at her little dock until the end of the war. He would have to either pay a lot of money upfront, or show his mother where to pay weekly, or maybe ask Voray to do it. Either way, he definitely had to tell Voray that he wouldn't be delivering fish anymore. Voray's shop would be fine, he had plenty of other fisherman who sold him their daily catches. He would also have to make sure some money made its way to his mother on a regular basis, so she could buy food and anything else she needed.
With all of that tumbling around in his head, Kovin was surprised to find that he had reached the front of the line. He was even more surprised when he recognized the man sitting at the desk as the man who had been nailing up signs.
The man smiled. "I was hoping to see you today." He dipped his quill in a small inkpot. "All right, lad. Just a few questions to get you started and figure out where we'll place you. So, easy ones first. Name and age?"
"Kovin. Seventeen."
"Working experience?"
This was where Kovin knew he was lacking. "Not much," he admitted. "Been a fisherman since I was twelve, workin' on a little sloop. She's mine now, been managin' her myself fo' 'bout two years. Go out int' the bay every day, spend most o' the day out there, then come back'n sell my catch."
The man made some notes. Kovin peered at the notes, but the writing was too small and upside-down, so he couldn't make it out. "So," the man said, dipping his quill again, "You've got a good understanding of winds and water conditions? You must, if you've been taking out a sloop on your own."
"Oh." Kovin nodded. He hadn't considered that as a strength. "Aye, sir, reckon so."
"Good, good... Can you read and write?"
"Aye."
"Excellent. Now, joining the navy means financial security. Your salary will be paid following a regular schedule. You can receive the money yourself or have it forwarded somewhere."
"To my ma," Kovin said immediately.
The Crelan nodded. "And I guess she'll be the recipient of your belongings if anything happens?"
That was something he didn't want to think about, but he nodded. "Aye, sir."
"All right." The man looked over his shoulder at a burly Teltan. "What do you think? He's young, seems like he's got a good head on his shoulders. We could recommend him for the Guardian."
Kovin's jaw nearly dropped. The Guardian was the oldest and largest warship in the West Draulin Navy. Working on it would certainly mean working alongside very important people. Maybe even Lord West Draulin. Never in his wildest dreams would he have expected getting a job on the Guardian.
The Teltan shrugged. "Maybe. Can you do that thing?" He waved an arm, like he expected Kovin to supply the answer to his vague request. "That thing Crelans can do. With your voices."
The Crelan narrowed his eyes. "That isn't one of the questions."
"Look, if we're recommending him for the Guardian, people need to understand him," the Teltan said. "It won't only be other Crelans on that ship. It'll be Crelans, Teltans, maybe some Natives. Goddess knows, Captain Roland might even take on some Navirian crew. I—" he thumped his own chest dramatically, "—understand all that Crelan nonsense. Not everyone does."
"I can do it," Kovin interrupted, doing his best. The brief mention of Captain Roland—every Crelan's hero—only made him want to work on the Guardian even more. "I don't have a lot of practice, but I can do it. Is this acceptable? The Navirians will be able to understand me, won't they?"
The Teltan nodded. "All right, that's pretty good. Sure, let's recommend him for the Guardian."
The Crelan smiled as he added another note to Kovin's entry. "Good. Report to the Guardian tomorrow morning. Captain Roland will be meeting all the new recruits." He slid a piece of paper towards Kovin. "Fill out this document with information about your mother, so your payments can be properly set up. Captain Roland will have a navy administrator with him tomorrow so you can hand it in."
Kovin picked it up. "That's it? I'm hired?"
"That's it," the Crelan said. "This will change your life. You made the right choice."
Kovin tried for a confident smile and kept up his proper Teltish voice. "Thank you for the opportunity. I'm looking forward to working on the Guardian." He reached out to shake the Crelan's hand, hoping the man wouldn't feel his hand tremble.
The Crelan met his hand with a firm grip and a grin. "Welcome to the West Draulin Navy."
And even as the words shot a thrill of excitement through him, Kovin found himself hoping he had made the right choice.