She gives me a look, part incredulous, part scathing.
‘I’m just more upfront about my methods than the royals. How is a tithe any different?’
She clucks her tongue. ‘Your loose lips. No wonder you got caught.’
‘That wasn’t why I got caught,’ I correct, hiding a grin. She sees it anyway.
‘What did you do?’ she asks with mock exasperation.
‘More a question of whom.’
‘Who was she?’
‘Hewas a Seaguardian. And we were role-playing.’ I pause. ‘I was wearing his uniform.’
‘Loose tongue and loose britches.’ She laughs.
I shrug, smiling. ‘I’d been sailing close to the wind for a while. Nice to feel alive sometimes.’
There are stalls everywhere, and I eye the victuals and libations for later. The group in front of us are sneaking flasks of home brew between them. Good thinking. But none of that tonight; got to keep a clear head. We keep to the back of the growing crowd, the Seaguardians standing in a circle by the bonfire to ensure no one gets too close. A cheer goes up from the crowd as one of the Seaguardian takes a torch to the bonfire. It catches quickly with an alarming whoomph that we can hear even backhere. A wooden emblem in the shape of a woman sits atop the bonfire, tall and proud. She has one arm bent as a perch for a bird, wings outstretched to their full span. Some poor sod has to craft that effigy every year just for it to be burned. Seems like a very expensive party.
I do a quick survey of my crew, making sure we’re all accounted for. Ris is directly in front of me, Biba next to her, squirming to get a closer look at the hubbub. Isagani stands with Narra, Ligaya, and Morna. Narra’s bag is open just enough to expose a small, dark head with big, yellow eyes and pointy ears. Sinigang was adamant that being stuck in a small space surrounded by open water was his nightmare. But being stuck in a small space with that otter-cat is mine. I don’t care how lucky they’re supposed to be in a storm. But Narra insisted that his skills would be useful on the voyage, and he didn’t disagree.
Now that it’s come down to it, I’ve got sickness in my stomach. We did some scouting a few days earlier; the docks are in absolute chaos with all the ships full of visitors coming into the harbour.Saltsweptwas lightly guarded with only a couple of patrollers, but any Seaguardian not engaged with water traffic control had a flagon in their hands. There might be no better night to commandeer my vessel.
‘What’s the burning figure all about?’ Biba asks.
‘They say she was an enemy of the Bastion,’ says Narra.
‘What did she do?’ The young girl can’t take her eyes from the pyre. She watches the figure blacken in the flames, eyes wide. ‘It must have been bad.’
‘Intimidation tactics,’ I say. ‘Let this be a warning to the others.’
Our group falls silent, and I realise the treachery of my words. I’ve never been good at pretending to love the royals, although I suppose that’s not really expected of an outlaw.
‘Low tolerance for criminals shows strong leadership,’ Ris says in a flat tone, for the benefit of anyone eavesdropping.
The wooden emblem collapses on top of the bonfire, and the crowd cheers louder. Some folk pick up instruments and the fluid dancing of drunken merriment begins. A song is taken up, first by a few voices, and then by others. A traditional Magliyab tune, with a rolling beat, which begs for dancing feet:
‘She was a trickster and a thief.
She was a traitor to the crown.
She was corrupt beyond belief.
Follow her way and you will drown.’
Even the nearby Seaguardians are compelled to watch the revelry, succumbing to the glow of the fire and the warm press of bodies.
‘It’s time,’ Narra says, squeezing my arm.
‘What are you going to do?’ I ask as we slowly extricate ourselves from the crowd.
‘Pockets of mischief,’ she replies with a wink, disappearing into the fray with Ligaya and Morna.
We hide in the shadows of the buildings, eyeing my ship. She’s not looking too weather-worn, and she’s only anchored and tethered by one rope. The Seaguardians on duty are loosely patrolling, which mostly involves walking up and down the dock as they talk. Why would anyone want to patrol the cold dark docks when nothing’s happening there?
chapter twenty-eight
