“I’m listening.”
She gave him a side glance, her eye slitted and bright.Hepretended to inspect a bruise.
There was a silence.
“Right,” Zaria said.“Well, he owned a tinker shop back inthe home country, Valrynn.It was a squat little hovel on the edge of the docksthat always smelled like fish and guts.He were a handyman sort.Could fixanything you put in his paws.Made a living patching carts, shoring upbuildings, fixin’ toys.I was one of nine othersiblings, one of the few that was his only real kin—the rest were urchins he’dlet in off the streets.He never could say no.”She seemed to drift away for amoment.“Got the picture?”
“Consider it painted.”
“Well, he was always pinching coppers.Refused to chargefull price.Said he’d feel too bad taking half a farmer’s coin just forpatching a wagon.Of course, he was a father himself—he needed bread on thetable.So he dabbled in fencing.Middleman sort.He took stolen goods, he fixedthem up, and he sent them off.We kids, we were the soldiers.His pinchingarmy.We scoured the districts for any pocket swinging with coin.Never themerchants, never the craftsmen.That was his one rule.Never steal from thosein need.”
She grunted.
“I was always his best.Quickest finger in the crew.I ran the shop while he was out, kept the youngest safe andmanaged.He’d never say so, always go on about doing hard things for survival,but I could tell, one way or another, he had pride for me.”
She stared at the bricks, her eyes slightly distant.
“Well, you know about the Scorch.Valrynn got the brunt end.When the farms were cursed, prices soared.After the docks were frozen, thereweren’t a single crumb of work.Everyone tightened their belts.His realbusiness ran dry, and even the fencing took a hit when the smugglers got hung.I’d hear him crying, sometimes, going mad from the stress.We starved.Two ofthe youngest died of illness.He cried even more.”
She paused for several moments.
“One day, I come home, same as always, and he’s staring out thewindow, watching the frozen sea.He looks at me like I’m the most horriblething that’s ever graced his shop.I try to walk passed, thinking he’s justembarrassed to be crying again, but he stops me, and he looks me in the eye,and he gives me the tightest hug of my life, and tells me he loves me.I nodalong, say something stupid about keeping strong, and he looks at me with painin his face, and goes back to staring out the window.I leave him be.
“That night, I’m headin’ homealong my same route, avoiding the patrols, and four men came out the shadows.Daggers and claws.They’d waited for me.I stand no chance.I’m dragged offthrough the alleys, and I’m fightin’ back, but it’s useless.I’m weak andhungry.They’re not.It’s over ‘fore it started.
“I’m led to a warehouse.I’m tossed into a room full ofother kids.We’re all filthy and scared.There’s crates off in the corner, andI don’t need to know what the label says to figure things out.We’re beingbought and sold.After a scuffle, we’re all loaded into the crates and sealedin tight.I thrash until I got splinters in every knuckle.Nothing works.Isettle for my fate.”
She stared at the brick again.
“Just as I hear the order to load, there’s a commotion.Eventually, I hear the voice of my father screaming himself hoarse.I yellback, and he comes and breaks the lid off and he makes just an awful sound whenhe sees me.Scoops me in his arms and says he’s sorry, over and over, untilit’s not even a word, just moans and tears.
“An arrow hits his back.I’m ripped from his arms.The samethugs descend on him, and he hardly has a chance to swing his sword before he’scut to pieces.As he’s dying on the floor, the meanest one spits on him, tellshim all sales are final, and shoves me back in the crate.Last thing I hear ishim choking my name.”
Isaac noticed that he’d stopped treating her wounds.
“I don’t get sent to a plantation,” Zaria said.“I’m unboxedon a pirate ship and told to get to work.I learn how to sail at the edge of adagger.Life goes on.I apply myself to the task until they don’t keep a watchon me.Before I know it, I’m just like all the rest.Just another pirate.”
She glanced over her shoulder.He applied more poultice.
“For years,” she said, “I hated him.Cursed his name.Aftera while, I just decided to never think of him again.Never gave consideration.But the years kept coming, and I kept thinkin’, and I started to understand.Istarted thinkin’ how desperate he must’ve been.It was a simplechoice—sacrifice one, or starve the rest.It might’ve meant survival.That wasour creed.Survival.He always told me the risks.”
She shook her head.
“In the end, he ...tried to make it right.And thatweren’t enough, but it was honest, and I try to love him for it.So, when I sawthe same thing, I followed his example.I don’t regret that.”
Isaac considered his response.“Would you say he was a goodman?”
“Aye.I would now.”
“Do you know what happened to your siblings, after he wasgone?”
“I can guess.”
He nodded, even though she wasn’t looking.“I, uh ...I’mdone on this side.Could you roll over?”
She flipped onto her back.The cuts and shanks on herabdomen were not quite as bad, though there were more signs of infection.Hebent over to the side, realized he was running low on Soldier’s Rest, anddecided to grind an extra liniment with his pestle.
“Sorry,” she said.“Didn’t mean to talk your ear off.”
