“Raise your arms,” she said, reaching over his shoulder.“Far be it for a knight to let her squire go underdressed.”
“I amnotyour squire.”
She yanked the bundled robes from his pack and forced hisarms over his head.He stood there, baking in the sun and no less embarrassed,letting the zoanthrope wrap a sprawl of white fabric around his body.With herstanding so close, he caught another waft of her unwashed body.The smell wasthick and strong.Isaac grimaced as she secured the makeshift shawl in placewith several belts.He felt like a baby wrapped in blankets.
Zaria stepped back, looking him up and down.She grinnedwith a row of yellow teeth.“Quite a fearsome sight.”
Isaac grimaced at his new clothes.
“Try not to strike terror in the meek and innocent.”
“You are not funny.”
A hot gust of wind blew at him, carrying more of her scent.Isaac coughed and moved around her, continuing up the dune.
“Something wrong, squire?”Zaria asked, easily keeping pacewith him.
“You have quite an odor on you.”
“Oh, thank you, love.Made it myself.”
“That is the problem.”
She glanced down at him.“Whose problem, exactly?”
“Anyone downwind.”
She chuckled.“Spoken like a lad who’s never lacked for soapand bathwater.You don’t smell like a wee cherub yourself.”
He tried to climb the dune faster, his feet sinking into theloose sand.“You know nothing of my upbringing.It wasn’t all honeyed tarts andballroom dances.”
“Oh, truly?”She caught up to him again.“All cloistered inyour wizard tower, with three hot meals, a fire in the hearth, and a bed offeathers to rest your head.Quite the image of suffering.”
“How do you sleep, then?Are you warm and snug with all thetreasures you’ve robbed?”
Zaria blew a raspberry.“I’m supposed to feel bad forpinching fancy baubles?What good does a silver necklace do anyone ‘cept lookreal pretty?At least I turn it into food and ale.”
“You’re a pirate,” Isaac said.“I doubt you stop there.”
“Just admit you know nothing of the world, Isaac.Save usall the trouble.”
He reached the top of the dune and turned to face her.“Doyou know how many travelers you’ve killed as a cutthroat?Do you even bother tocount?”
She stopped just before him, further down the slope.“Inever killed a soul that didn’t have it coming.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“That’s ‘cause you don’t know better.Your idea of banditryis all from books.Just so you’re aware, killing your mark’s the worst thingyou can do.”She waved off to the horizon.“You rob a family in a carriage, andno one looks twice.Should’ve hired protection, they’ll be told.You slaughterthat family down to the last, and you’ll have the entire town guard up yourarse before you break camp.Don’t need to be morals involved.It’s just bein’sensible with your craft.”
Isaac shook his head, continuing on.“I still don’t believeyou.”
“Look,” she said, still following beside him, “it’s allabout fear, right?You brandish your steel, you bare your teeth, you get thelads all laughing mean like you’re excited to gutsomething for a change, and you’ll have the usual wayfarers beggingyour mercy, throwing their purses without you ripping ‘em yourself.You do theshow right, you convince the would-be heroes not to try nothing, and you skulkaway without spillin’ a drop of blood.”She shrugged.“Little bit of coin’s notworth anyone’s life.”
“Oh, terrific,” Isaac replied, still trying to put distancebetween them.“I’ve seen it all now.A philanthropist pirate, just trying tohelp the common folk while she robs them blind.Clearly, she’s never hurt aflower.”
Ahead of them, the dunes stretched off into the horizon.There was not a single color other than brown to focus the eye.The sky wasempty of clouds.
“Never claimed my hands weren’t bloody,” Zaria said, hervoice gaining an edge.“Killed a couple score, at least.Town guards, rivalpirates.Some nameless sorts on the street.Ain’t proud of it, but that’s lifefor you.”
