Chapter Nine: Components

‘It’s definitely this one.’ Bailey say’s unconvincingly, even in the feeble light of the hold I can make out his handsome face, furrowed in uncertainty.

I nod slowly and look toward the crate; identical to the other three he has opened previously ‘Crack it open.’ I say lightly.

He pries at the lid with the crow bar he brought along and peers inside, holding the lantern over the top. I move in beside him to examine the contents, the luck of Fortych finally smiles on us, as I detect the vivid purple leaves of Creeping Peri.

I beam up at him, the whites of his eyes shining in the gloom. ‘We need more light.’ I say looking around the cramp hold.

‘I’m on it.’ Bailey stomps across the boards and with his lantern, lights an oil lamp that’s hanging from a hook on the wall, he lights several more that are evenly spaced along the holds sides, illuminating the room in a warm glow.  

I fumble in my pocket for the parchment Bailey gave to me back up in the galley. I unfold it and scan through the list. If forced I could remember the combinations but the catalogue I wrote prior is most expedient, and I am thankful that he had not misplaced it. ‘Where did you find all this at such short notice?’ I ask, gazing in marvel at the atypical inventory. ‘Some of these plants are extremely rare.’ I reach into the container and pull out a spray of Swamp Rocket. ‘I’ve never once seen this for sale at the herbalists.’ I pull my eyes away from the brown frayed bundle and stare up at Bailey, who is perched cross legged on top of a large coffer.     

‘You’re shopping at the wrong place.’ He smirks. ‘Herbalists only sell common produce, if you’re looking for something more exotic, head down to The Black Trenches.’ He looks away from me, a bored expression on his face.

‘Where?’I ask, puzzled.

He guffaws. ‘Your lack of knowledge must be due to your privileged upbringing.’

I stare at him in absurdity. ‘My life has been anything but privileged. My parents may have been of a high-standing, but they gave me nothing. I’ve worked hard, every day of my damned life.’    

He smirks. ‘You’re quick to bite ain’t ya? Look..The Black Trenches are a place where merchants, of a..eh.. questionable legitimacy, go to trade. Before you fell into this world you were obviously a respectable lady, that’s all I meant.’

I look away from him and mumble to the floor. ‘Well, you could have phrased it better.’ I scoop up an arm full of the plants and head over to a small table in the far corner and begin to lay out the ingredients, flattening the crumpled parchment on the surface so I can categorize exactly. ‘You trade there often?’ I ask softly, heading back to the crate for another load.

He snorts loudly, shifting his large frame on top of the container. ‘Yeah.’

I glance up at him and scowl.

‘You’re surprised by this?’ He asks smiling, obviously amused by my naivety. ‘Looting foreign ship’s isn’t something Lord Soren likes to promote; he needs to appear to have a pleasant relationship with his neighbours. We cannot go openly selling our stolen goods on the market.’

‘Are you saying Soren allows this?’ I drop the last bundle onto the table.

‘Of course he does. He gets a percentage.’

‘Hence why you don’t fly the Edorain flag?’ I say more as a realisation than a question.

‘Yep.. if we did, it would start a fucking war.’ He stares off towards the side wall, his expression uninterested.

‘So he knows about the dragon?’ Then I suddenly realise. ‘He’s the client isn’t he?’  Of course it makes perfect sense. A High Lord needs a safeguard and what better defence is there than a dragon? Furthermore Soren can afford such a high rate with no monetarily consequence.

Bailey looks at me and shrugs his shoulders. ‘No idea.’ He thumps down onto the planks and trudges towards me. ‘You need any help with that?’

‘All I can do for now is lay everything out in order. So it’s easier and faster to make a potion when I know the breed.’

‘You can’t make them now?’

‘No, no the effects weaken dramatically over time. Best to knock them up the instant they’re needed.’ I look down at the parchment. ‘You can group all the plants required for Deep Blue.’ I point to the top of the list.

‘The water dragon?’ He asks, proud of his slight understanding.

‘That’s where they originate yes. But they adapt at an incredible rate, they can be found anywhere across Wyran... be it the heights of The Ahm Peaks or the depths of The Digh Tides.’

He looks at me then smiles, seemingly impressed, then he commences with the chore.

We spend a while in silence, our concentration swallowed up by the sorting. The table is too small to house all the plants, so we are forced to place some on the floor. ‘How long have you worked for Reve?’ I ask eventually, finding the silence unnerving.

He exhales nosily, and screws his face up as if recalling the duration is an arduous task. ‘Since the beginning, I guess, Horac, Del, Aerith and I... we go way back.’

‘Aerith?’ I ask my interest perked. I’m crouched on the floor, staring at a branch of Fellenwort.

‘Yeah..she’s alright, despite her.. defect. Besides I wouldn’t want to cross her, the bitch is like lightening with two blades.’ 

‘Oh, the elf.’ I say, remembering our earlier encounter. ‘This ship is a hive of diversity.’

‘Reve doesn’t give a shit about lineage; if you work hard you’re respected...And judging by the sounds coming from his cabin earlier, you certainly work hard....very hard.’ He winks at me, as if his statement was subtle and needed validation.         

I roll my eyes and groan. ‘Have you finished Deep Blue?’

‘Yeah, what’s next?’

‘We’re done.’

‘You work fast!’ He exclaims, his eyes shining. ‘I suppose that exclaims Reve’s untimely..’

‘Stop it...Just..don’t.’ I cut him off and stand, brushing the dirt from the knees of my trousers. ‘I need a mortar and pestle.’ I glance around the room and at the numerous crates, knowing that it may take some time for Bailey to uncover a grinder, amongst all the luggage.

He screws his face up in deliberation. ‘You’re probably best off asking Remo, he’ll be in the galley.’

‘Who’s Remo?’

‘The cook, short fat bloke, bald, you can’t miss him’ He says, hurriedly before stomping across the boards to the exit. ‘Well, if you’ve no more need of me, I’m going to go get piss blind drunk!’

‘Is that wise?’ I ask uneasily. ‘Tomorrow is crucial, should you be facing it with a hangover?’

 ‘I am a seasoned drinker, and a seasoned sailor, you needn’t worry. Although, your concern is rather endearing.’ His eyes twinkle and his gaze lingers on me for a moment. ‘Yeah.. I’d fuck you, if Reve wasn’t so fixated.’

I’m shocked by his sudden declaration that I laugh sharply, instinctively folding my arms across my chest and wondering if he meant to say that aloud. ‘He’s not fixated with me.’ I say, my face screwed up in reservation.  

He shrugs his shoulders. ‘You strike a chord with him.’

‘How so?’ I ask quickly, gripped by the direction of the conversation.

He sighs heavily, clearly not as engaged as I. ‘Matters of the heart bore the shit out of me...now shut up and let me go drink!’ He turns his back,  pulls open the holds door, and disappears into the gloom.  

I shake my head quickly, trying not to let Bailey’s words consume my thoughts entirely. Reve is a mystery to me, a deadly mystery, and that’s mostly the appeal. I make my way around the hold, carefully blowing out each lamp in turn, before unhooking the one nearest to the exit and taking it with me.

I’m still unaccustomed to the swaying of the ship so I make my way, ungracefully, back up to the galley. At least my sickness has subsided, having my mind swimming with other thoughts has obviously remedied that.  

I pass no one on my short journey; the crew numbers aren’t exactly copious, and besides it’s getting late. Most will probably be asleep or drunk in their hammocks. I am thankful I brought along the lamp, its paltry glow is just enough to stop me from walking into the walls. The passages are extremely narrow and unlit, the gloom a match for the stillness.

I stumble into the galley, the earlier rowdiness now muted. I blink frantically against the strong glare that assaults my vision. Once my eyes readjust I notice the kitchen is almost deserted, almost, besides Kalcha’s large form now slummed over the table in the far corner, his arms folded on its surface and his face buried in them, his body rising and falling, in a slow heavy sequence. The shattered cup and bottle of rum still before him.  

I peer right to the back and over the counter straining my eyes to see if I can I spy anyone matching the description of Remo. But there is no one else here. I slam the lamp down on the nearest table and sigh heavily, not sure on what my next step should be.

The clatter startles Kalcha and he jerks upright in his seat, his eyes open, blurry from sleep. He rubs at them severely with his clenched fists before he notices me.

His expression remains blank. ‘What time is it? He growls.

For reasons beyond me the sound of his familiar voice stills my soul. ‘Past midnight.’ I say softly, watching him stretch up to the ceiling, and yawn loudly, in the way that would usually iritate the shit out of me, but right now placates me further. ‘You should be resting properly; you’ll need your wits about you tomorrow.’

He rubs at his face again. ‘Ah, yes for tomorrow we ensnare a dragon.’ His tone is blunt, almost mordant.

‘I understand the crew’s cynicism, for they are unfamiliar with this business. But you? I am surprised that you’ve dismissed the idea so flippantly.’

He shrugs his shoulders. ‘What does it matter really? If there is a dragon it will kill us all, if there isn’t one then we are just fools following a madman. Either way my life is over, I am an out of work felon with a whore for a wife. I am a joke.’ He does not look distressed as he says this; it’s as if he resigned himself to the fact a while back. The gruff tone of his voice replaced with indifference.

‘Has Ustus seized your soul? Where is your fight man?’ I bark, hearing him speak this way is equally upsetting and infuriating.

He stares at me, his face inscrutable. ‘It died along with your honour.’

I march across the galley, pull out a stool opposite him, and drop down onto the seat, heavily. My eyes fixed on his bedraggled face. I can feel my temper rising. ‘Is this how we are to be? For the full duration of the voyage, are to you smite me wherever possible? Yes, I am a whore Kalcha. For I was left with very little choice, you neglected to tell me how bad things were, so now we have no place to call home. I was cast out on the streets, I had to take action. I derive no joy from it believe me, I sinned and now I suffer for my misdeeds. I had no desire for you to be punished alongside me, so I made one promise, and that was to free you, which I have done. Now my guilt and my sins are my own, you can say and do whatever you please, for it will no longer affect me.’ I feel immediately ghastly for my outburst, he is here because of me, if he had not agreed to Reve’s terms he would be rotting in his jail cell, there was no real choice.   

‘You made more than one promise to me woman. Do you remember? You pledged to forsake all others, to stand by me through sickness and health, fortune and dearth?’

‘Well, I fucked that up didn’t I?...I’m sorry that you’re here Kalcha, I truly wish that you weren’t.’

‘I’m sure you do, for it would make your life easier wouldn’t it? You’d be able to carry on with Reve with no consequence; you could be a free woman. But you are not, for as long as I live you shall remain mine in name, and every time you look upon me you shall feel shame and disgrace.’

‘You hurt only yourself by being this way, I care not.’ I look away from his stare and down into my lap, I know my face gives away the lie. ‘Pray tell, what did you expect me to do?’ I whisper. ‘I have never been so low Kalcha.’ I glance back up at him expecting to see some form of empathy in his blue eyes, but there is none, just a deep well of discontent.

‘You expect my sympathy?’ He barks. My whole body tenses as the sharpness of his voice cuts through the air. ‘Have you forgotten what got you here?’

I clench my fists hard, my nails digging into the soft flesh of my palms. ‘Yes, it appears to have slipped my mind, remind me again of what a filthy, little, fucking whore I am!’ I snarl through gritted teeth, I stand, the stool abruptly scraping backwards. ‘Usually I charge a good rate to hear it, but you can have it at no cost!’ My eyes begin to sting, but I clench my jaw tighter, my anger overwhelming my misery. ‘Is the mistake I made was so great that I deserve to be exploited and handled like an animal? First by you, and then by the City Watch? Men who are supposed to be trusted! At least as a whore I have some form of control. At least it is honest!’

Kalcha’s stool topples backwards as he jumps to his feet. ‘Honest?’ He bellows. 

I find myself smirking, his passion has been ignited, there is nothing more infuriating than indifference. ‘These men don’t masquerade as respectable, upstanding citizens. My life is now free of deceit.’

‘When have I ever deceived you?’ He growls, his eyes bearing into my skull.

‘For years you professed to be a man of great honour and morality, would a man of this depiction abuse his wife so terribly? Would he debase her physically? I think not.’

He stares at me dumbfounded, yet his rage still plain. He rumbles through gritted teeth. ‘You enjoyed it.’     

 I laugh scornfully. ‘Is that what you tell yourself? You are no better than those Knights in the tavern!’

Something appears to snap in his brain, his eyes are alight with burning ire. He rushes at me from the other side of the table, he’s so fast I have no time to shift. ‘Why are saying this?’ He has me by the tops of my arms, he’s squeezing so hard I believe they may break. ‘You wanted it!’ He yells, his face inches away from mine.

I should be frightened, but I am not. His rage is exciting to me. ‘Why would I want you?’ I snarl my face split by a widening smirk.  

His breath is ragged, and his shoulders are heaving. He grabs a fist full of my loose hair, and pulls on it viciously, twisting me around so my back is pressed against his chest. He wraps his other strong arm around my waist, locking me to him.

‘Go on..do it..do it..It worked so well last time!’ I push myself hard against him. Our bodies bolted together,  his breath is harsh in my ear. ‘What’s the matter? Is it no fun when I comply?’ With all my strength I kick out at his shin, he howls in my ear and his grip loosens. I hastily squirm free and draw myself away from his reach.

He’s fallen against the table, his face pained. ‘I wasn’t going to...’ He looks up at me, the passion absolving from his body.

‘You lie, but for whose benefit? We both know you’re an animal.’ I stand smoothing down my crumpled shirt, trying to appear aloof, even though my heart is pounding.

He looks down at the floor, and pushes himself up from the table, he starts to laugh, his whole body quaking with the effort. ‘Perhaps, but it means little when the dirty slander the unclean.’ Even though his defences are up, I still discern the desolation behind his steely demeanour. He reaches behind him for the bottle of rum and holds it up as if in salute. ‘May tomorrow bring us everything we deserve!’ He gulps back the alcohol then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Staring at me with an almost crazed look he slams the bottle down on the table and trudges towards me. Impulsively I leap from his path, I feel slightly dejected as he ignores me and makes for the exit. I do not turn to see him leave, but the crash of the galley door confirms his departure.

My body relaxes and I make for the left over rum, longing to feel the burning in my throat. I grab the bottle and slump down in the chair, rapidly drinking back the liquid like the arid desert.

****

I’m behind the counter rummaging through the bowls, cups and saucepans, searching for a damned grinder. The loud clanging of the cutlery is a match for my livid state of mind. I curse to myself as I strip the shelves and cabinets bare, throwing the contents carelessly behind me. I flop back onto my haunches, panting from the feat, my hair sweaty and stuck to my face. I cannot find what I need; I do not know what to do. I should be sleeping, but I know not where, will I be wanted in Reve’s bed? Or would such an assumption be deemed inapt? Such trivial thoughts considering tomorrow, why can I not focus on my task? I resume my frantic search, the banging commences and my mind is dulled.

Deciding that the cupboards do not house the object of my desire, I jump up, resting my palms on the counter, and eyeing up the shelf to my right.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’

My head jerks up towards to the door, its Aerith, clad only in her hat and a loose shirt, revealing her long slender legs. I wonder if she should be walking around like that considering the nature of buccaneers, but then I gather that she can probably look after herself. ‘Sorry did I wake you?’ I ask, with little concern, my eyes flitting from shelf to shelf.

‘Yes.’ She barks. ‘Are you ok? You look demented.’ She struts across the room and towards the bottle of rum left by Kalcha, and I find my gaze drawn to her lean thighs.

I’m laughing rather sensationally; then I gather myself and bite at my thumb nail. ‘I should be asleep, I have a vital part to play, and I need to be alert.’

‘Go to bed then?’ She says, gulping back the rum. ‘Please, for everyone’s sanity.’

‘I don’t believe I have a bed.’ I rub at my eyes as they begin to sting, why am I so bloody upset? I swallow a lump and feel my shoulders shudder; the first moments of hysteria take hold. I look up through wet eyes and see her standing there, frozen to the spot looking like she’s witnessing the dead rise.

She looks nervously at her feet; obviously wishing she was anywhere but here. ‘Lay rough or find a hammock, or...I don’t know...I’m sure Reve won’t mind bunking up.’ She doesn’t look at me, she is clearly unaccustomed to tears, and I am embarrassed and furious at myself for letting that man upset me so.  

‘I will not impose on him.’ I say, trying to gain back control, her discomfort drawing me out of myself.

‘He looks like a right bastard- which he is- but he will not turn away a crying woman, believe me.’

I take a deep breath and move from behind the counter, ambling towards the bottle of rum Aerith still holds in her hand. I study her face as I procure the booze from her outstretched arm. Possibly reading too much into her words I say. ‘You know this how?’ I feel my eyes narrow by their own volition.

She laughs at my words. ‘Look princess you have no reason to feel threatened by me.’ She takes the rum from my hands after my small drink, and puts the bottle to her own lips.

It’s my turn to laugh now. Even though I want to shut her down and exclaim how preposterous it would be for me to be envious of an elf, I decide better of it; my fight is spent. So I remain silent, studying her sharp face.

‘Reve has no interest in what lies between my legs. In fact for a while we all believed he had turned, or his heart so blackened by circumstance that he’d stopped feeling all together.’ She looks at me in uncertainty out of the corner of her eye. ‘You must have a magic snatch.’

I start to laugh, a sincere reaction that lightens my miserable mood. ‘It has been said.’ I close my eyes and nod my head in earnest, taking the rum from her and having my fill.

She sucks in air deeply and says. ‘Less of the laughter, the tears will be more effective, maybe tear your shirt a little bit, he won’t be able to abstain’  

‘I think perhaps I’ll find a hammock.’ I hand her back the rum and rest my buttocks on the table. ‘But first I need to find a fucking mortar and pestle!’ I growl looking back over my shoulder at the destroyed kitchen. ‘Or we’re dead before we even begin.’  I widen my eyes at her teasingly, the rum has taken hold and even though I am still aware of the peril, I simply don’t care as much.

‘Good job Remo left it out on the side, in plain sight then isn’t it?’ She nods her head towards the back of the galley.

I gawp at her in disbelief and slowly turn my head, scanning the work top till my eyes fall on the stone grinder. ‘Fuck me.’ I gasp, lowering my head in shame.

‘It’s reassuring to know that our safety is in the hands of one so competent.’ She says dryly, drawing in her lips and patting me on the arm, somewhat condescendingly. ‘Get some sleep! Be it with Reve or with the rest of us lowly dogs.’ She smiles at me and turns to leave, taking the consoling bottle of rum with her.

I trudge heavy footed over to the work top and take the grinder in my arms, cradling it like a newborn, for its weight is grave.

I make my way out into the passageway and follow the muted sounds of life blindly, in hopes of finding a place to lay my head. I eventually come to an opening, my eyes now adjusted enough that I can make out several hammocks. Only one is occupied, by a snoring stout man, the hammock sagging severely under his weight. I drop down into the bottom one, still clutching my prize. The idea of sleeping beneath this man does not fill me with delight, I begin to contemplate the weight of the pestle meeting his skull if he intrudes on me. I tighten my grip around the smooth cold stone, the thought settling me.