Zelink Short Stories - Chapter 19: Chapter 19

"Anything I want?" I repeat his words back to him from the table that has become my desk, a book open in front of me.
"Haven't I been this generous from the beginning?"
"Kidnaping is hardly generous and neither is sinking the ship coming to rescue me."
He sighs and settles deeper in his chair. His arms are folded beneath his head and his boots are propped up on his desk. "I didn't sink the ship, I broke it enough so that it couldn't sail."
"You killed everyone on it."
"I didn't do that either. Really, dear, I'm bored of this conversation. We have it so often."
I scowl and snap the book shut. He surprisingly had a small collection beneath his bed. But I've read them all and have started to work through the stack for a second time. There's nothing else to do on this bloody ship except wait and stare and avoid him. Though he made that impossible this morning when he insisted on lurking in his quarters to tell me about the port we're sailing to.
"I know what I want," I say finally.
"Do entertain me with it."
"I want to go home."
"No."
"You said anything."
"Don't push it or it'll be nothing." He bats his gloved hand in my direction, his eyes still staring at the ceiling. "Pick something else."
"I want you to throw yourself overboard."
He barks a laugh. "You're finally taking after us pirates. But I won't be doing that either. Decide on things you want, love. Fill this room if you wish. My gold is yours to play with. Make a list."
I push out of my chair and walk to his desk. He doesn't sit up or give me any attention for that matter.
"I want to get off and wander the town."
He remains bored, eyes flicking to mine. "Absolutely not."
"How will I know what I want if I can't see any of the goods?"
"Then I'll send Medoh to pick things for you. His taste is impeccable."
"I don't want him to pick things for me, I want to choose myself."
"I'm not so stupid that I don't know what you'll actually be up to." He sits up and pushes a blank page to me. "Make a damn list and it'll be retrieved for you."
I brace my hands on the desk and lean forward, bringing my face as close as I dare to his. "I want a new place to walk more than things to do here."
"You want to try your luck at hunting down some Redcoats to sweep you back to your commodore," he corrects. He's so sure he didn't manage to kill him in his attack. Why he didn't kill the leader of a fleet is still unknown. Why he does anything really is a mystery. "Unfortunately this is a pirate port and the Royal Navy does not step foot there. But even more unfortunately, pirates can only be trusted to be untrustworthy and I trust them to do their worst to a proper lady such as yourself." So he admits I have no business here besides whatever game he's playing.
"You can escort me then." A bit of my pride dies as I say it. I muster it back up as well as I can, bruised as it may be.
A smile cracks his lips. "Can't get enough of me now?"
I snap upright, crossing my arms over my chest. "I've had more than enough of you."
"Hardly. You've barely had any of me."
Heat rushes up my cheeks. What I've had is more than enough for several lifetimes and I'll despise him in each one.
"Will you escort me or not?"
"Can't. I have too much to do here."
"You're sending most of your crew." A fact I was shocked to learn.
"All of my crew. And that doesn't include me as someone has to man it."
"Why not leave some here instead?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
"You don't give me very many answers."
"Touché." He opens a drawer and hauls a pouch of what must be coins if the clink and slide of its contents are any indication. "Lucky for you, I'm feeling more generous than usual. You stay with Medoh." He offers the pouch of money but inches it back when I reach for it. "Promise me first."
I fight my scowl. He treats me as a child, dangling what I want in front of my nose. Keeping up with my attitude now will just have him pulling my privileges and I'll be stuck on the ship with him and only him while everyone else galivants on land when I deserve to walk on real dirt the most. The occasional grime on the boards before mopping doesn't count.
"I promise," I say as sweetly as I can. I snatch up the pouch he finally lets me have. It's heavy—plenty heavy enough to pay to send a letter and certainly enough for a possible bribe if necessary. Perhaps he should trust me to be untrustworthy as well. It's what he's taught after all.
"We'll be there within the hour. Go tell Medoh about his new job."
My sour expression returns all on its own. "You're his captain; you do it."
He raises his brows. "Do you want to go or not?"
"I do."
"Then go have a chat with our favorite foreigner."
Favorite is a stretch. Sometimes I wonder if he's more insane than his captain. He cackles at danger, perches high in the masts among the birds. He lacks every sort of manners and his ego is so puffed it's a wonder he can stuff it into such a fit frame.
And it's just my luck that no one on this ship can understand his language but myself. I should have never asked him what his order meant when he shouted it to a lazing group of pirates. The order in question was spit in French, and since then, he bothers me with conversation about how much he hates every face but his own. My attempt at finding one ally turned to befriending an egotistical murderer with an affinity for heights.
"He's going to say no."
His attention is already back on the ceiling rather than the maps he threw his boots on again. "Ask nicely."
I huff and fish a few shiny, golden coins from the pouch. Asking a pirate nicely for something simply means paying him.
I leave the rest on my pretend desk and head to the deck. Only one complaint from me had Link issuing an order that each of his men be shaved and fully clothed and as clean a possible. They could pass for peasants now.
I check the helm first for the first mate, finding a particularly annoying pirate named Mido manning it. He flashes an ugly grin and I crinkle my nose. Shaving doesn't make all of them prettier.
I leave him to it and walk down where the blood was scrubbed and the rail was repaired from the fight weeks ago. I hadn't seen them dump the bodies overboard but I ensured my tears were dry before Link unlocked the door. He didn't utter a single word that night before he slumped in his chair and began to snore. I might have been more offended though I had no wishes to speak to him either.
And now he won't hush or quit studying me. Just last night in bed, I rubbed my arm while reading and an extra blanket was draped on my shoulders a few moments later. He claimed he saw gooseflesh. I pushed the blanket off and told him he was wrong. It looked so warm puddled beside me and I fully regretted pushing it off. On what felt like a dare, he had watched from across the room and I certainly couldn't give him that satisfaction so I remained cold.
Brushing aside the captain's odd behavior, I search the sails for his second in command. Just as I thought, he's sitting on a beam, his legs dangling over the edge, swinging them a little like an excited child. Heights mean nothing to the man.
"Revali!" I call out. He doesn't budge or stir or show he heard me at all. "REVALI!" A few of the pirates laugh but don't slow their work. Link threatened to remove eyes, tongues, or hands if they continued their gawking and comments and kept looking like they wanted to touch something that wasn't theirs. They obeyed as if he'd doled such punishments before. I wouldn't put it past him.
I call his name once more and then give up, shouting at him to get down in French instead. That he hears.
"Mademoiselle!" he calls back. He stands on his beam and grabs a nearby rope to climb down. His muscles bulge beneath his white undershirt as his arms work to set him safely on the deck before me.
He kisses both cheeks as he normally does now, completely oblivious to the memory I have of him pinching those cheeks and threatening to hit me for raising my hand at his captain.
"What is it you need?" he asks in French.
I respond in kind. "The captain is letting me go with when you dock. He said you'll escort me."
He shakes his head. "The captain is a fool. That port isn't safe for a woman."
"Are you not capable of keeping me safe?"
His brows furrow, his temper quick to strike. "I am perfectly capable. It's you who is not capable of listening. You're a fool just like the captain."
I flash the small handful of coins and I let a smile slip at just how quickly he shuts his mouth. "Is that a yes then?"
He grins and takes his payment to tuck in the pocket of his vest. "I like you more than Farore."
"I would hope—"
"But," he interrupts, wagging a finger in my face, "you do something foolish and I will make you regret it. You run and I will hunt you down."
His threat does little. Both men refuse to explain why I'm really here and the crew is too afraid to lose their tongues to let anything slip. I simply lift my chin. "Your threats are dull. Where would I go?"
He sputters, resorting to his usual filthy string of curses as he waves me off and stalks away in search of something to climb. Rather than submitting myself to be entertainment for Link, I go to the very front of the ship.
It rocks but I'm used to the sway now. It's almost a lullaby, shushing me to sleep each night when I remember how far from home I am. The salt is the same. It smelled like this in my room too. And if today goes to plan, I'll leave a trail for Skyloft to follow if he's really alive like the captain claims he is.
Revali leans against the frame, filling the doorway and keeps any other patrons out of the shop. He picks his nails with a thin knife, threatening any and all in the room to behave.
I watch my new trunk be packed with a few dresses as well as thread and needles and fabric to toy with making my own while on board. I only have one day to stuff as many activities as I can for when I'm forced back onto the ship. And if my rescue is long or if it doesn't come at all...
I refuse to think about it. I've survived so long with pirates. I can survive a while longer.
"Will that be all?" the shopkeeper asks.
"Yes, thank you," I say, keeping my words clipped as Revali instructed after he deemed me as being too kind in another shop. He also thought the price was too steep and threatened it down to fewer coins.
The keeper had locked his door after we left. He all but soiled his pants when Revali flashed his pistols and mentioned that his aim was good enough to shoot a man through both eyes at the same time.
I drop the coins in his palm, weighing how much I still have left. It's plenty heavy. All I need now is to get my chaperone distracted with something and someone to send the letter I have tucked beneath my square neckline. I scrawled it out quickly when Link oversaw the docking of his ship. I used the very paper he demanded I write a list on.
Medoh jerks his head to signal the few crew members with us to haul yet another one of my splurges back to the ship before they're free to roam. They didn't dare complain about the trunk of books and they don't complain now.
My escort offers his arm when we step out onto the cobbled streets already filled with cackling drunken pirates and harlots letting them fall into their bosoms. The air is humid and thick, smelling of urine and worse things past certain alleys. Men tumble from taverns just to stagger to the next.
The moment I stepped off the ramp I wondered if I did prefer the ship. But if it weren't for the filth and grimy people, it could be a lovely place. The buildings remind me of the streets at home. They're much less tamed and boast thick, leafy foliage growing on each surface it can touch.
No stone is free of cracks or stains. Moss grows over and between and the streets stay soggy from frequent rain. And as the sun sets, lamps are lit, their orange glows throwing tall, exaggerated shadows on the walls.
If it weren't infested with pirates, it might have been lovely.
"If you're done, I will take you back—"
"No," I blurt. "I'd like to...wander." Perhaps conveniently into a crowd or a particularly dark corner where I can easily be lost from his sight.
He scoffs. "This is no place for a woman, especially at night."
"There are plenty of women here," I remind him.
"Harlots. Are you a harlot, mademoiselle?" He shakes his head as if disgusted he dared ask such a thing. "You should have listened to me and wore pants. And a coat."
"This is better than what the ones offering...services are wearing." It seems each day, Link offers a gown of higher quality than the last. I can't say I mind that part much.
Such ladies laugh and drag pirates into the same foul smelling alleys. I cover my nose at the smell and cringe at the sight. Even a brothel would be better than this.
Most shops closing now in favor of taverns, one we walk near has its door open to entice, the inside dark. Shelves line the dim path past the door and cages and other things hang from the ceiling. I pause my steps. The open doorway beckons, asking me to come inside and see.
"I want to go in there." I could lose him in a maze of goods and slip out a back door and claim I got lost by the time he finds me. After which I'll have already paid for my letter to be sent.
He pauses as well and glances into the dark shop. "No."
"Why not?"
"It is not a good place."
"It's just a shop."
"A cursed shop."
"Don't tell me you're scared of it?" I slip my arm out of his, tempting his earlier threat of hunting me down. I'm sure he will but I have to disappear first. "Well I'm not."
"Tetra—"
I turn and hurry to the shop. I pass through the door and away from his protests. His voice fades just as quickly.
I slow in between the stacks and shelves of things, turning in place when I see how deeply I've already woven myself in. I don't even hear his steps coming after me.
A cool breeze much lighter than the thick air outside wraps around me, nudging me. I obey, looking at the items as I take quiet steps. Dust and other odd scents prance on the breeze.
There's jars of bugs and plants and liquids. They vary in size from as tall as my little finger to big enough to carry with both hands.
There's crates and beads, stones polished and rough and swaths of cloth from sheer to thick. I wrinkle my nose at a set of shrunken heads and little dolls set beside them. Revali warned it wasn't a good place. Maybe he was right but something about it takes me deeper.
I wind around another corner, the chitter from a monkey in a cage overhead making me lurch from my skin. A parrot answers with his own squeaks and clicks and more birds begin to chirp in their separate cages.
"Find what you like," the raspy voice of the parrot says. He shifts on his perch, curling his talons around the wood. "Find what you like."
I swallow at the odd command and look down either end of the row. It's set like a maze but there's no sign of an owner. I take a deep breath to call out and decide against it with the next brisk chill raising little bumps down my arms.
It could be closed then or the owner left for a moment and simply left the door to entice a breeze. Whatever the reason, no else seems to be here.
The hair on my neck stands on end. Revali didn't come after me and there's no windows to see the path I left him on. Oil lamps provide the only light, casting creeping shadows from the trinkets and stacked crates. They seem to move in the corners of my vision. They each become shy once I watch them.
I turn to go back the way I came when now it's a dead end. The parrot continues to talk from his perch high on a shelf. He flutters his wings my way, squawking louder.
I gather my skirt and head down the other path. I must have simply gotten confused. I wandered further than I thought. The parrot grows quiet as I move further away.
But none of the bends or trinkets look familiar. The splits I remember from before are gone now and the winding path leads from one dead end to another. My heart begins to hammer when I turn around once more, almost running now.
"Find what you like," the parrot demands. I blink and his perch has returned. I glance in a circle, finding myself where I just was.
My palms go sweaty against my dress.
"Find what you like," he squawks after me.
I take a new path, hitting each dead end. I peek through the cracks in the small empty spaces but there's nothing beyond them.
"Revali!" I shout. I come to another dead end, my breath rushing out to rest on the verge of panic. "Revali!"
He couldn't be so afraid of this place that he wouldn't follow me in. He's proven that he fears nothing and now I need him to keep his promise of hauling me back to the ship and he's not here. Sneaking off be damned if this is where it has landed me.
Because I would prefer the ship. I wind around each corner, passing the odd jars and dolls with hearts and the fabric clinging to foreign scents and wish I hadn't begged to leave. I must be a fool.
The panic building threatens to spill over when I come to the parrot and his perch again, sitting high above my head. He ruffles his wings, seeming to want to take flight.
"Find what you like," he repeats.
"No," I breathe.
I whirl where I came from but stop, staring up at the towering wall of shelves blocking the path that I was in moments ago. It was just there!
"What is this," I mutter. Cursed was what Revali claimed. And he's a pirate, he's seen everything and traveled everywhere. He likely wasn't wrong.
"Find what you like." I bite down on my lip and turn to take a new way.
I freeze, my eyes widening at the two old women before me.
"Did you find what you like?" The two crones speak in unison. Their backs are hunched, their clothes black and hanging off their bodies. Their noses have the same hook and the only difference is in the band they wear around their heads. One is orange and the other is blue.
They're twins, identical in every way down to their rotted smiles.
"I don't think I'll be purchasing anything today," I force myself to say. It comes out weak.
"You need to get something," they say.
"No, thank you—"
"Perhaps beads," one starts. She holds out a hand. A strand of inky beads drapes from her fingers.
A faceless doll wearing a reddish brown jacket like the one Link wears appears in the other's palm. The hair is blond as well. "Maybe a toy."
"Or a pet," the first says. She cups her hands around the beads and when she opens them again, a mouse is there, alive and moving. My eyes go impossibly wide.
"No no, she is a pet."
The mouse disappears up her sleeve. "No she would be."
"Yes, you're right."
"What do you mean?" I ask, cutting in. They grin, showing darkened teeth.
"The man who keeps you," they say together once more. My chest tightens. How would women I've never met know what disaster I've been stuck in?
"The captain," I breathe.
"No." They shake their heads. "The other."
I frown. Who else could it be? "The first mate?"
Their smiles disappear and I take a step back, bumping into a barrel. "No, stupid girl. The one whose heart was spared on the sea. His wound still aches."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say. I glance to another path between the shelves. "Excuse me."
I sweep into the opening and just then, my dread settles heavy like lead.
"Find what you like."
I'm opposite of the path I took but a mirror stands there now. Rather than showing my face, it shows my back even as I stare at its glass. My heart chooses a new pace that makes my head dizzy.
"Let me out," I demand to the two crones still standing there, backs hunched.
"You're lost," one says, the other finishing it by saying, "and you want to go backwards." They click their tongues and wag their fingers in perfect unison.
"I want to go home." How they know anything about me is a mystery too eerie to try to solve. I give a quick glance behind me where there isn't a mirror. The one remains in front of me, showing a hand that isn't at my back.
The reflection in it holds something in that hand—a small box with chiseled corners and a slightly rounded top.
"We know," they both say. "You need to find your way."
"I know my way—"
"To be a pet. Good man, but wrong."
The other nods. "He will be grateful."
"It will fix a great deal."
I look between the crones. "What will be fixed?"
"You will see. Take your compass and go."
"I do not own a compass."
"Silly girl. Look."
My fingers are empty one moment and hold something wooden and square in the next. I hold it in front of me and open my palm. It has the same shape as the reflection.
A strange sense of ease floods from it, calming the shake from my fingers. I flip the top open and watch the needle spin. It turns around and around in either direction, slowing but never settling.
"It's broken." I look back to the crones. "It doesn't point north."
"It's not broken," they hiss. "It isn't meant to point north. It points to what you desire."
Their voices split once more. "It could be what you need most."
"Whether you know it or not."
"Take good care of it."
"Go on now. He's waiting for you."
"Very impatiently."
"Yes, he's good at pretending."
"Yes yes. He paces now."
"Who?" I ask, ignoring that their conversation seemed to be theirs only.
"Just look."
And then they leave down the path where the mirror had been which really wasn't a mirror at all but a gap in the stacks. Behind them, another path reveals itself, leading to the cobblestones where I had been standing with Revali. The needle on the compass spins then halts, pointing steadily in that direction.
The chatter from outside finally reaches my ears and I haul up my skirt, breaking into a run before it disappears.
"Come back again," the parrot croaks so far behind me now. I will do nothing of the sort.
Hands grab my shoulders before I can reach the door. They wrench me around and I send my leg hurling into whatever is trying to keep me here.
Revali's face loosens the knot in my gut though it's full of fury. My kick doesn't disturb him. "Where were you?" he demands, mixing his English and French. "I was calling for you."
"I couldn't hear—"
"How?"
"The paths changed—" I shut my mouth. He'll think I'm mad next. "There were women...showing me their wares. I was distracted."
"Get outside," he orders, shoving me out the door which he kicks closed in a satisfying slam. I welcome the cackling and shrieks of pirates and women and the thick air that accompanies the chatter. "Witches," he mutters under his breath. I'm inclined to agree such creatures are real.
I look to the compass now that I've left and the needle changes, pointing back toward the water. It must be pointing to home. If it's true, I could find where I might be on a map and then at the next chance, I could send another letter.
"What is that?"
"It's nothing—" He rips it from my hands.
"A broken compass," he muses. "You didn't listen for a piece of junk? How much did it cost?"
"It didn't cost anything," I say, my words growing quiet as I watch the needle change now the compass is in his possession. It spins and spins until it lands on a tavern, drunks moving about and loitering out front. "Have you indulged in a drink yet?"
"I am taking you back to the ship."
"Not yet. I'm enjoying myself." A lie after the endless maze and the creepy women and their parrot. "I want to see inside the tavern."
"Absolutely not."
"Please?"
"I am not your servant. Farore can watch you instead." He goes to pull me back to the harbor.
"I still have coins left for ale and rum." He pauses and I watch the options weigh behind his eyes. It really is his greatest desire at this very moment. Triumph blooms. Creepy or not, those crones gave me something very useful.
"You do not drink anything," he says.
"I won't," I agree.
"You stay by me."
"I promise." A promise which is a lie. The tavern will serve as the perfect distraction. I should have enough coins to pay for how much ale it takes to turn him drunk and I'll still have enough for what I need.
"Fine." Offering an arm which I take, he walks us to the tavern and leads us inside.
If I weren't a lady, drunken pirates might have been entertaining. They fall over themselves, shirts soaked in sweat and rum. And when they fall, they stay there to be tripped over and the cycle continues.
I sit at a stool beside my chaperone, overseeing his game of cards. The amount of money he has already won is outrageous yet new men join to gamble even after others slump away once they empty their pockets.
A few men brawl on a table, too drunk to land good punches. Another tries his hand at dangling from the iron fixture with lit candles hanging by the stairs. And through the music and shouting, Revali continues telling his stories in an accent so thick it's a wonder any can understand him. I doubt any actually can.
He turns to me, his cards held down to hide them. "Did I ever tell you that I shot Farore once?"
My eyes widen. "He's your captain. He trusts you with his ship."
"That doesn't mean I like him, mademoiselle. I shot him above his heart, just like I did to your dear commodore." He chugs the rest of the ale from his tankard. "And as you can see, he is just fine!" he cackles.
I think about his admission rather than the fact that a pirate tried to kill another. The witches he called them claimed the one whose heart was spared on the sea is the one keeping me as a pet. Or would keep me as a pet rather. They said it wasn't the captain but perhaps they confused that with the Commodore. He heads a ship after all.
And if that's true, he is alive and Link is the one keeping me as a pet. He kidnapped me and keeps me prisoner. Revali spared his heart but the wound must still ache.
I brush the lump of the compass tucked in my skirt pocket. The women were odd yet they knew too much about a stranger. And their compass was right in pointing to the door to leave. It was what I wanted most in that moment.
It changed when Revali held it, leading us here where his pockets grow heavier every round of cards and his smile is more genuine than when he climbs the masts on the ship. It can't work this way and yet it does.
This compass can lead me home. That's why they gave it anyway. I'm lost and it points to what I want and that is home.
The men around the table shout their surprise as a player other than Revali wins. He grins at his victory and reaches for the pile of coins set in the middle.
In a movement faster than a blink, Revali plunges a knife into the back of his hand, stabbing through flesh and the wood beneath. The man's eyes bulge, his mouth caught in surprise though he's too drunk to scream in pain.
"I do not miss," Revali sneers to the now silent and terrified group, his voice clear rather than drunken. "That includes cheaters." He leaves the knife and fishes the lone card tucked beneath the man's sleeve. He holds it between his fingers and flashes it to the players. "I believe that I am the winner."
Not deeming it worth their hands to object, they pay their shares. He yanks the now bloody knife from the man's hand. He shouts now and grips it to staunch the bleeding.
"Leave before I decide to shoot you too."
Without taking the chance, he runs.
And like a madman, Medoh pulls his pistol and aims through the crowd, shooting the slightest lick of space in the floor at the man's heels. Patrons laugh and scatter as if almost losing an ankle is a funny taste of danger.
"How about a wager?" someone in the crowd shouts.
"Who thinks they can shoot better than me?" he yells back, launching from his seat at the challenge. "Someone give me something to shoot!"
At his command, someone snatches the hat off the nearest person's head and tosses it high in the air. He draws his second pistol and hardly takes the time to aim before he pierces it with a bullet.
Still in his craze, he points his other at someone in the crowd, shooting the tankard in his hand. It spills down his front, sending the man reeling back. Cheers erupt and I stand. Now is when I can slip away.
"Ah, yes!" He beckons me with an empty tankard. "Put this on your head and go stand by that post. They do not think I am the best."
"I don't think—" He shoves the dented metal cup into my hand.
"Go on." He snaps his fingers. "Quickly, now, we do not have all day!"
Before I can turn, he downs another few gulps of ale, spilling none. He doesn't miss when he's sober but I've never seen him shoot at someone he wants to keep living while he's drunk.
I go stand by the post that feels too many paces away and I steady the tankard on my head. I ignore the eyes and jeering as Revali readies his pistol.
"Do not move, Lady Tetra!" he calls. "Trust me!"
I wish I did.
I clench my fists at my sides, not even daring to breathe. He takes his aim, the barrel seeming all too low. A fresh wave of fear threatens to shake my body when I notice he's using his left rather than his right.
If he shoots me now, I'll keep my ghost on this plane of existence just to see his captain kill him too.
The ping of the bullet cracks in my ears and the tankard goes toppling off my head. Cheers follow and he faces his crowd, arms raised in triumph.
My blood rushes, my heart thumping but not in fear. Exhilaration.
I fight the smile on my lips as it continues to grow. I've spent too much time with pirates.
He leaps onto a table to take his bows and I'm swallowed into the crowd. Wonderful.
The lump in my pocket beckons my hand to retrieve it. I flip the top and watch the needle move to settle in a new direction. A thrill rushes through me. It's falling into place perfectly.
I follow the needle, moving through the bodies. It doesn't lead me to the door and rather takes me to quieter corners of the tavern. I climb a set of stairs, sidestepping brawlers and harlots.
I duck under a pair of flailing arms, my eyes never really leaving the needle. I stop just outside of a thin group crowding a table for a different reason than Revali still firing shots downstairs.
I push through, my eyes following from the needle to the table and right to the pirate sitting across from another.
A female pirate, tipping back a short glass of clear liquid from the many empty ones before her. The man across attempts to do the same.
He slumps instead, falling right to the floor.
Howls of laughter follow and she collects her bets, waving her admirers off in a feigned attempt to be humble. The man is dragged off and someone pours cold ale on his head to jolt him awake. And the woman washes the hard liquor down with a cloudy bottle of rum.
The entire bottle.
I check the compass once more to see if it's moved. I even turn slightly. The needle remains steadily on her.
I've witnessed it work twice. Whoever this woman is must have just what I need as the crones said. Wants or needs—they can be the same thing, we just don't always know it.
Her crowd disperses and I slip into the chair the man had fallen from. Her gaze snaps to me and she fixes her hat. White hair spills down her shoulders beneath it.
"I've never been with a woman before but I'm not opposed," she slurs.
Blood rushes to my cheeks and neck. "I beg your pardon?" Perhaps wearing men's clothing wouldn't have been the worst idea. I could have braved pants for a few hours.
She throws her arms wide, dropping her empty bottle to shatter on the floor. "I kid. Captain Impa Kakariko at your service. How may I assist you on this fine evening?"
I blink. The compass works better than I thought. I tuck the precious thing back into my pocket.
"I wondered if you would be able to send a letter for me."
Her eyes narrow. "You don't know how to send one yourself?"
"It's more a matter of means," I explain. Quickly, I pull the letter from my bodice. "I need to send this to my father at Port Royal. He's the governor—"
"The governor?!" she blurts. "What are you playing at?"
"I was kidnapped from there weeks ago and they haven't been able to track my ship. I'll pay for any trouble it would cause."
"Who kidnapped you?" she asks slowly. Tentatively. "The name of the captain?"
"Link Farore."
A smile grows on her pale face. She leans closer, waving for me to do the same. "Is he really cursed?"
Cursed? I stare at her, not sure of what to say. "I'm not sure what you mean—"
"His curse," she repeats. "They say he got tangled up with a goddess or some sort of sea witch and she cursed him for breaking her heart."
"He's just a normal man." As much as a pirate can be. I've never seen him turn into a sea creature at night or have strange appetites for the unnatural things.
"Is he here now?"
A gun fires from below and glass shatters just after. "His first mate is. He had things to take care of on the ship..." I wet my lips, my letter held tight in my hand. "Why?"
"Because they also say he can't come on land. It's a brutal part of his curse, really, seeing as he needs women to break it and women aren't often at sea."
Unless they're kidnapped and taken to him.
My skin prickles. My important role he won't say a word about. "How does he break it?"
She shrugs. "Some think he needs to drown them somewhere to appease the sea goddess he hurt." Her grin is wicked. "But I heard he becomes wildly infatuated with any woman he lays his eyes on and he'd rather drown them in himself." She plucks the letter from my fingers. "He gets obsessive. Jealous. Does any of that sound familiar?"
"Where did you hear such nonsense if he drowned them all?" I say a bit breathlessly because it does seem too familiar. I shake the feeling. These are tall tales.
"Well I hoped I would hear more from you seeing as you aren't drowned."
"Curses aren't real." The lump in my pocket thrums in offense. Just a few hours ago, I worried I would be cursed to wander in a circle with that dreadful parrot for eternity. But those had been mind games. They toyed with my panic.
Yet there's a compass in my pocket that leads me to my desires and it knew this woman captain had exactly that.
"Would you like to test your luck instead?"
I clamp my lips over my teeth. The only offer of an explanation I've been given is from three strangers: two twin crones and another pirate. After the tricks in that shop, more may be true than I want to believe.
I shake my head.
"I'll pass your letter on but I can take you with me. I'll drop you as close as I dare to get to the Redcoats. Closer depending on your pockets." She offers me her hand. "Do we have an agreement?"
I shake her hand before I can say yes.
My letter and payment is tucked onto her person within moments and then she takes my hand to lead me away from this grim fairytale.
It'll all go back to normal once I'm in the hands of the Royal Navy. Any soldier will take me back to my father and my bed.
I let myself smile at the thought. I'll have my father and a proper bath. My bed is waiting and I can already feel the hug I'll wrap Paya in.
She sweeps me down the stairs where full brawls have erupted. Glass shatters on the wall beside our heads. The music gathers a new pace, urging the fights to spread.
I trip off the last steps and see Revali where I left him. He fights off two men with two swords, all while on a table. He plants his heel into the nose of another before he can climb up to join. He throws his head back and laughs, his swords never pausing.
I might even miss him, as asinine as that is.
Impa shoulders her way through the crowd, stealing a bottle of rum to chug on the last stretch to the door. She breaks the bottle on someone's head, cackling at how quickly it sends him to the floor.
Fists fly, blood sprays, bones crack and shouts too playful for such violence surround us. It'll all be behind me soon enough. Normally, a lady is deemed wild if she attends a formal dinner without a chaperone. Being whisked away by pirates will top any promiscuity of all the ladies at port.
Impa reaches for the latch, her hand not quite there when a sword sails through the air and sinks into the wood. She yanks it. The sword remains, keeping the door locked.
"TETRA!" The music halts abruptly, fists freeze, and every voice hushes at the demand that cut through every sound.
I look behind to the table he struts off of. His smile is gone, replaced with a cool temper.
"What did I tell you not to do, mademoiselle?" he asks, prowling closer. "What will the captain think when I don't bring his beauty back?"
Impa leans close to my ear, her breath smelling of rum. "I'll pass your letter on," she whispers. "I promise."
And yet tears prick my eyes when she wrenches her hand away from mine and slips into the crowd, disappearing. All those things I had looked forward to moments ago are gone now. Father doesn't even know if I'm safe. It'll kill him to not know.
I stifle the cry and he stalks closer. The tavern remains silent for him.
I refuse to flinch as he rips the sword from the door and swings it open. "You did not listen to me," he says, pouting. He tosses the sword to the floor and returns his own to its scabbard. "I thought we understood each other better."
"I'm sorry to prove you wrong."
"I'm sure."
The ground flips upside down and then I'm staring down his back the same as I did all those weeks ago. He carries me out into the night, away from the whistles and laughter that resume at my new predicament.
They have no morals or dignity. They move from one foul act to another and their only loyalty is to the taverns that sell cheap ale.
I don't fight him as I dangle. He doesn't even bother to clamp me down so I can't kick.
We both know it would be pointless.
I'm not prepared when Revali breaks into a run at the docks. He shoulder slams the air from my stomach and I gasp for more while he yells in French.
He all but drops me and just in time to see a man roll down the ramp leading to the ship. He tries to stand but he doesn't make it to his feet before Revali grabs his shoulders and hurls him into the ocean with an unceremonious splash.
More shouts come from the deck and one in particular is in an all too familiar voice.
Revali sprints to the deck, sword drawn and I run after him.
His sword meets the man ready for him and I duck away, clinging to the rail. And not much further by the mast is the captain.
His arms are held by two men keeping him pinned while another buries his fist in his gut. His bleeding gut.
His teeth grit, he kicks one attacker to send him sprawling. He cracks the back of his skull against another's nose, breaking it. And just like that, he's worked his way down to one attacker.
The man wraps his arms around his throat and both go tumbling back into the thick wood of the mast. Link pries at his arms, slamming his body back again and again and again, crushing his attacker between his body and the unforgiving wood.
He slumps and by then the one he had kicked is back on his feet. Link runs for him.
He slams him into the rail and I swear I hear the crack in his spine from the impact. He screams as Link shoves him overboard.
Revali slashes the one he had been fighting and they both turn for me, eyes widening.
It takes me too long to notice the man with a bleeding nose before he yanks my hair and pulls me to his foul-smelling body. There's a soft click followed by the cold press of a pistol beneath my chin that forces my head up.
"Link!" I scream
"I'll kill her!" the man bellows. "Let me go or she loses her pretty face!"
I claw at his arm as it tightens, his gun digging deeper in my neck.
Neither of them move except for their eyes. There's an agreement there that may only be possible between men with such a complicated friendship. If it could be called that at all.
The man's feet shift. "She goes with me."
"Be my guest," Link grinds out. His voice is rough from the fight and his hand moves to the spreading red stain on his shirt.
The man begins to shuffle, taking me with him. Whatever they agreed on couldn't possibly be this. Why so much trouble just to give me up so easily.
I squirm. "Wait," I plead. "Let me go." I look back to Revali and watch his eye close.
No. They weren't ever planning on letting me go. And he doesn't miss.
He draws his pistol and fires.
Hot blood sprays across my cheek and his body peels away. A shuddered breath shakes my chest and I cup my hands to my mouth once his body thuds to the deck. I've watched them both kill but I had never been the one to touch it or feel it.
Link is slow to retrieve a discarded gun from the deck. He turns to the man waking up against the mast and shoots him in the chest.
And once he's dead, Revali grips an arm while Link takes the other and they haul him to the edge, throwing him into the sea. I don't dare turn to the body bleeding behind my feet.
Revali waves me over, his anger for me forgotten. "Come, mademoiselle. Do not turn around."
For the first time since I've been here, I don't linger in following their commands. I drag my arm across my cheek to clear the blood from it.
"Get the rest of those rutting bastards back onboard," Link croaks. He presses a hand to his abdomen, hunching slightly. "You have the ship. Make sure no one else thinks it's easy to take." Pirates can't even be loyal to each other. They saw a ship and tried to steal it.
"Do not die on me. I like your ugly face."
Even in his state, the captain manages to huff a laugh.
He follows me into our quarters and struggles to even close the door without slumping on it. Despite my better judgments, I take a step closer.
He holds up a bloody hand. "I'm fine," he rasps.
Pirates and their lies.
He pulls my chair out and falls into it. The shake in his fingers is visible from where I stand awkward and useless.
I go to my bed instead. He doesn't want help so I won't give it. I don't want to help him anyway. He can bleed out at my desk if he wishes.
From what I know now, he could be cursed or it's some legend he conjured up himself simply for fun. The woman who told me was a pirate herself and they all lie. Lie or not, she has my letter and money and I have to hope she will keep her promise.
The letter I wrote holds details of islands I saw in the distance and the direction we have been traveling based on the sunrise and sunset. I wrote about the port town where we docked and I scratched out the far-fetched rumor I heard from the crew about a cave of treasures we might be going to next. If anyone can puzzle it together, it will be Skyloft.
Link groans and I try to ignore him by pulling out my compass. It spins and points to him. I scowl and shake the damned thing.
It stays focused on him.
I shuffle on my knees to turn but the needle remains.
Curse him. Even if he is supposedly cursed, I'll curse him again.
I tuck the compass away and stand, moving to him. I cover my mouth, bile in my throat reminding me just how blood feels when it's where it shouldn't be.
He manages to finish opening his shirt to reveal a sweat slicked torso where the lamps contour the ridges of his chest and stomach. As easy as it would be to stare, the hole above his hip leaks blood and takes all my attention.
He lets his head fall back, his chest heaving.
"You let yourself get shot," I say.
"Thank you so much for that observation." And I know it's not the first time according to Revali.
"What happened exactly?"
Like it is an amusing question, his chest shakes with a quiet laugh. "They thought the ship was unmanned and I intended to prove it very much wasn't."
"Well why would you send off your whole crew to wander port? Perhaps then you wouldn't have a hole in you." Perhaps I wouldn't have been subjected to such danger either. A shudder works down my arms at the situation I was just in.
"I'm well aware but we don't stock often and I've never had this issue before."
And now he's shot and bleeding, all because of some poor planning and cockiness.
"I got needles and thread today. I can sew it."
"No." He shakes his head and drags his hand around my desk in search of a rag. I push one closer to keep him from smearing his blood everywhere but he doesn't grab it. "Go entertain yourself with something."
"I think that will be a bit difficult with a dying man in the same room."
"I am not dying." Unfortunately.
"You will if that gets infected. Or if you bleed. But it's possible an organ was already nicked and you'll die anyway."
"May I assume that you'll celebrate my death?"
My lips twitch at the smile that threatens to show itself. "I'll even drink rum."
He doesn't fight his grin. "I'll die a satisfied man when I see that."
Can a cursed man be a satisfied one?
Cursing myself, I go to the trunk that was brought up hours ago and flip it open to find the threads and a needle. I ransack his desk next for the liquor he keeps there and take a clear one. The last I grab is a lamp to see the very thing making me sick.
I set my supplies down and go to uncork the bottle.
"Put on the gloves."
I roll my eyes, doing away with ladylike. "I assure you my hands are cleaner than your gloves—"
"It wasn't a suggestion," he rasps. He pulls his gloves from his pocket and drops them on the desk beside me. "Put on the fucking gloves or see yourself out."
Refraining from attempting to hit him again, I snatch his gloves and tug them on. They're too big for my fingers.
"This is ridiculous."
"I don't care."
"I'm shocked." I take the rag he had scrambled for and I ball it up. He begins to question it and I shove the fabric into his mouth to shush him.
He glares up from beneath his lashes, his brows furrowed over the eyes that are so impossibly blue. His chest moves just a bit faster and mine does the same. Just past the unbuttoned edge, a rounded scar boasts itself so close to his heart.
I clear my throat. "Would you prefer your men to hear you yell?" Most of them must have returned by now. Medoh's voice carries in, shouting his orders to set sail.
He only watches me. Most of his hair is pulled back in a tie, leaving his long sideburns and bangs. A few stray strands stick to the sweat on his forehead.
I kneel down and uncork the bottle and begin to tip it, hovering the mouth over his leaking wound. I hold my breath like I will be the one in searing pain in a moment.
I pour it. He fails to swallow a grunt, making it come out as a choke instead. The alcohol trickles over, washing away the caked and sticky blood in streaks.
His fingers flex and curl, his palms digging into the arms of the chair. As his stomach rises and falls, a dark color peeks from within the torn flesh.
"I can see the bullet. I don't know how to get it—"
He groans, reaching down for his boot. His fingers tremble as he pulls a thin, short knife from the cuff of it.
He slumps back, shifting his hips forward as he braces for the knife that is now in my hand. My fingers begin to shake. The first day I tried to stab him and now I have to dig a bullet from his abdomen.
I hold my breath once more and bring the tip of the blade into the wound. Sweat slides down the seam of his muscles, his fingers squeezing the arms of the chair so tightly his hands go white.
I flick the knife and the little lead ball shifts free, rolling down to the floor. I let my breath go and dump a fresh rush of alcohol on the wound, staining his pants further.
His breaths go heavy around the bit and I rid myself of the knife in favor of threading my needle without taking off these ridiculous gloves. I stain the spool of thread red, ruining it. I suppose it isn't much of a surprise he ruined another thing I have. He's taken everything but the small things and now he's plucking those away too.
I poke the thread through the needle and pinch his skin together with my other hand. "I heard something about you while I was gone," I mutter, daring myself. I look up to meet his eyes. "Will you tell me if it's true?"
To my surprise, the blue softens. His nod is slow. My breath hitches. I don't want it to be true.
"Someone told me you're a cursed man." I poke the needle through his skin, noticing how his fingers flex at the slight pain. "Truth?"
To my horror, he nods once.
I drop my eyes, working the needle further, stitching his skin to put him back together. I shouldn't. I could leave him open and bleeding if I wished. "Is it your plan to break it?"
Another nod.
"And that's why you need me." I jab the needle deeper than I needed, eliciting a surprised grunt from him. I continue, tugging the thread through, closing in the blood that wants to stain his skin.
I move faster, stabbing and pulling. "You can't go on land then," I continue. "She was telling the truth. That's why you wouldn't take me to port yourself and why Revali brought me here in the first place." I scoff. So there are truthful pirates. I'm simply stuck with the one who kidnaps women to mend his own mistakes.
He shifts, lifting his hand to pull the gag from his teeth. "I can explain—"
"Shut your mouth." I yank the thread and tie a knot, ripping it rather than cutting it to cause him a twinge more pain. "I almost didn't mind your company when you weren't speaking."
I stand, ignoring the mixed scent of alcohol and sweat and the rusty stains stains on my gown.
"Tetra—"
"My name is Zelda," I hiss. "Not Tetra or Hilda. Zelda. Whatever you're going to do to me, you might as well know it so it may haunt your dirty soul.
His eyes widen with longing or guilt; I don't really know. I rip his gloves from my fingers and toss them to his lap. He's just a pirate.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says.
"I don't believe you."
"I swear it."
I fight the tremble in my lip.
"What good is the word of a pirate?"
"When have I lied to you?" he demands. Each hand plunges into a glove and then he pushes himself out of the chair, jaw set on the pain. "What have I said that was a lie?"
"You kidnapped me." My words are sharp but my feet retreat and one hand slips into my pocket to hold the compass. "You took me from my home and now you hold me hostage on your ship while you pose as some generous host!"
"I want you to be happy here. Tell me how to make that true."
"Take. Me. Home. I want to go home." Uncaring of what he might do, I pull my compass free and flip it open to watch the needle spin. And once it lands on home I'll shove the damn thing in his face and show him that's what I desire. Home and Father and the Commodore.
He moves closer, sending me retreating. "You are not the only one who wishes to return somewhere," he reveals, urging more questions into my head that I shouldn't bother to care about. "Indulge me, Zelda, how much do you know of my curse?"
"Only that you can't go on land." He takes a step forward and I take one back, brushing against the post of my—his bed. My grip remains steady on the compass so close to touching his bare chest, the needle of it spinning slower and slower.
"That can't be all," he nearly whispers now. He braces a hand beside my head, his body sagging slightly from what can only be pain. "Tell me what you know."
I breathe deep, daring my eyes to hold his. His breath whispers on my cheeks, smelling of rum and his body is hot and slicked in sweat and blood. "You need a woman to break it but I don't know why."
He nods slow. "I toyed with the heart of someone who made my own version of hell for my mistake and now I can't clean up another mess I let fester. So I need you. I need you alive and whole and overflowing."
His other hand drifts up to tilt my chin higher. His thumb wanders slow, smearing faint drops of blood on my skin. "I need you to be happy in whatever manner you see fit. You hold me in your hand as steadily as that compass."
My fingers tighten, my breaths chasing after the feeling of his kissing my face. His eyes grow heavy and they drop and though I cannot see the needle of my compass, I know where it has landed.
"All that you want and I'll give it." His hand moves to rest below my ear, fingers threading further to my hair. "Ask me to carve out my heart and it will be yours to keep." His head tilts and he wets his lips, his fingers in my hair to move my head just where he pleases.
"Tell me you're a goddess and I'll pray until I'm worthy of being your god," he whispers.
Not just a fine woman or a lady. A goddess. I could send him to his knees and make him bow his head on a whim. How lovely it might be to watch him there, earning my affections.
My compass sinks. He's weaving a tale in hopes it'll make me part of his legend. "Why?"
"Do you love your commodore?" His words remain low and steady, jealousy dripping from them.
I wet my lips too, watching how his eyes study the movement. "Of course."
His hand in my hair remains gentle. "And does he love you?"
Just that simple question takes a drape to the painting I'd hung so easily simply because I never considered it. My future marriage isn't a matter of love whether it's from him or me. We'll learn how.
"Yes," I finally say. My hands hide in my skirts as he moves closer, the open and bloody edges of his shirt brushing my sleeves. "Not that it matters to you."
"I did not think someone in love would hesitate like you."
"What would you know of it?"
His next breath is heavy and warm and I flatten to the post behind me, wishing it would swallow me into its grain. The Commodore may not love me yet but I'm the fine woman he wishes to marry. I will be proud on his arm and doted on and protected at port. What will I have to worry for once he takes me as his...
A pet.
"Too much. Maybe not enough. What I do know is a man who loves you would not wait so long to kiss or touch you. He wouldn't make you think when asked if he loves you and he would certainly never let you slip through his fingers."
No. He wouldn't.
I steel myself against the voice in my head that can't be my own. His head tilts further, his lips tracing my neck without ever touching. His breath warms my skin and I sigh, imagining how it might feel for his lips to press softly and his teeth to leave little lovely bruises.
No. That voice is entirely my own.
His other hand comes to my cheek and the one in my hair pulls slightly, angling my chin up to align my mouth with his. My eyes flutter and I let them close. Men kneel before God but he doesn't worship at the altar of any church.
"My curse, Zelda," he whispers. "Touch me and I'll love you. That I promise."
My breath hitches and my eyes snap open to meet his gaze once more. A promise can't go as deep as that.
"Would you love me too?"
His gloved fingers in my hair keep me steady as I try to shake my head. Gloves. He's never touched me without gloves. And now he's close enough to kiss me yet he hasn't.
To not fall in love.
"Please," he begs. It comes crashing into me as violently as the ocean he keeps in his eyes. To give up all that I have to let a pirate love me and to love him back.
I reach slowly to wrap my hands around his gloved ones. He never touched me without them because he would be cursed to fall in love if he did. How real would a love be that's created by the punishment of a curse?
Pain fills his expression as I pull his hands away from me. He doesn't fight it. He stares, lips parted and ready to beg. The curse may be more cruel than that captain had known, for one doesn't have to be in love before they begin to fall.
I move away from him, my hands trembling as I tuck them away. His turn to fists as if holding onto something he didn't have.
It isn't my fault he is cursed. He chose to be a pirate and he put himself into his own mess. I can't mend his mistakes as I did his wound.
His curse isn't mine to bear.