Jay Kristoff - Darkdawn

They arrived at the Bloody Maid, rocking at her berth, the deep waters of the Nethers harbour a muddy brown beneath the Everseeing’s three burning eyes. The ship was a swift-cut three-masted carrack, keeled oak but planked cedar, her skin stained a warm reddish brown. Her figurehead was a beautiful naked woman with long red hair artfully arranged to preserve her modesty – or cover the most interesting parts, depending how you looked at it. Her trim and sails were blood-red, hence her name, and though he’d owned her more than seven years, the sight of her always took Cloud’s breath away. Truth told, he’d lost count of the women he’d known in his life. But he’d never loved a one of them close to the way he loved his Maid .

‘Ahoy, mates,’ he said as he climbed the gangplank.

‘You’ve got a nun,’ BigJon said cheerfully.

‘Well spotted,’ Cloud told his first mate.

‘That’s a novelty.’

‘First time for everything,’ Cloud replied.

BigJon was a littleman. Everyone in Nethers Harbour knew it. He wasn’t a dwarf – he’d made that clear to the last fool who’d named him so by bashing the man’s skull in with a brick. He wasn’t a midget either, fuck no. He’d explained that to a taverna full of sailors as he took to some stupid bastard’s crotch with his knife. Nailing the man’s severed scrotum to the counter with his blade, BigJon had declared to the entire pub he preferred the term ‘littleman’ and asked if there was anyone present who objected.

Nobody did. And nobody had since.

‘Sister Ashlinn,’ Cloud said. ‘This is my first mate, BigJon.’

‘A pleasure.’ The littleman bowed, showing a row of silver teeth. ‘Do you leave the costume on during, or—’

‘She’s not a sweetgirl in a costume. She’s a real nun.’

‘… O.’ BigJon clawed at the collar of his sky-blue tunic. ‘I see.’

‘I’m taking her down to the cabins. Get us under way.’

‘Aye, aye, Cap’n!’ BigJon spun on his heel and roared in a voice that belied his small frame. ‘All right, you bobtailed dung-eaters, get moving! Toliver, pull your fist from your shithole and get those fucking barrels stowed! Kael, get your eyes off Andretti’s whore pipe and up into the nest before I make you wish your old man ploughed your mother’s earhole instead …’

… and so on.

‘Apologies, Sister,’ Cloud said. ‘He’s got a mouth like a sewer, but he’s the best mate this side of Old Ashkah.’

‘I’ve heard worse, Captain.’

He tilted his head. ‘Have you now?’

The sister simply stared, and the lump of beef behind her loomed a little larger, and so without further ado Cloud escorted them down the stairwell into the Maid ’s belly. Leading the pair along the tight hallway to the portside stateroom, he opened the door with a flourish and stepped aside.

‘Hammocks only, I’m afraid, but there’s space aplenty. You can dine with me or alone, as it please you. I’ve a bath in my cabin also, if you’ve a need. Arkemical stove. Hot water. Your privacy will be golden, and though I’d not expect it, you get lip from any of my salts, inform myself or BigJon and we’ll see it put arights.’

‘Your “salts”?’

‘My crew,’ the man smiled. ‘Apologies, Sister, I’ve a sailor’s tongue. Regardless, the Bloody Maid is my home, and you’re my guests in it.’

‘My thanks, Captain,’ the sister said, easing herself into one of the hammocks.

Cloud Corleone considered the girl carefully. Her shapeless white robes were almost loose enough to hide another nun beneath – sadly designed to leave almost everything to the imagination. Her face was pretty, though, freckled cheeks, bright eyes the colour of a cloudless sky. Dragging off her coif, she released long red locks down over her shoulders, creased with a gentle curl. She looked three turns tired and in need of a good meal, but still, you’d not kick her out of bed for farting, holy virgin or no.

But something about her wasn’t right.

‘May I help you with something, Captain?’ she asked, eyebrow cocked.

The privateer stroked his stubble. ‘I’ve a bed in my cabin, too, should the hammock grow tiresome.’

‘Still trying to be charming, I see …’

‘Well.’ He gave a bashful schoolboy smile. ‘I’ve a thing for women in uniform.’

‘More out of them than in, I’d wager.’

The captain grinned. ‘We’ll be under way momentarily. North to Stormwatch, swift as sparrows, then back to Whitekeep. We’ll be there by weeksend, winds be kind.’

‘Let us pray, then, that they are.’

‘Any time you want me on my knees, Sister, just say the word.’

The big fellow in the corner stirred slightly, adjusting one of those suspiciously sword-shaped lumps, and the captain decided he’d learned enough for now. With a wink that could charm the paint right off the walls, Cloud Corleone tipped his tricorn hat.

‘Good nevernight, Sister.’

And he closed the cabin door.

Walking up the hallway a moment later, the captain muttered softly to himself.

‘Nun my arse.’

‘The balls on that slick bastard,’ Ashlinn whispered incredulously.

Mister Kindly coalesced above the cabin door.

‘… i wonder where he keeps his wheelbarrow … ?’

‘I’m dressed as a nun, ’ Ashlinn said, looking about the room in indignation. ‘He does realize I’m dressed as a fucking nun, aye?’

Throwing aside her cloak of shadows, Mia faded into view in the far corner. Jonnen stood with his wrists bound, one of his sister’s arms about him, her other hand clapped over his lips. He glared at the Vaanian girl as his sister removed her hand.

‘You have a filthy mouth, harlot.’

‘Quiet,’ Mia warned. ‘Or it’s the gag for you again.’

Jonnen pouted but fell silent, his eyes on his sister’s back as she crossed the cabin floor. Locking the door, Mia turned and met Ashlinn’s eyes.

‘I don’t trust him.’

In the other corner, Tric drew his hood back off his head, thin white plumes spilling from his lips as he spoke. ‘NOR I.’

‘Well, that makes three of us,’ Ash replied. ‘He might as well have the word “pirate” stencilled on the arse end of those ridiculous pants. It’s a good thing he only gets his second two hundred after our arrival in Ashkah.’

‘I didn’t think the funds Mercurio gave us were still so flush.’

‘They’re … not,’ Ash admitted. ‘But we can burn that bridge when we arrive at it. The Siren’s Song already left port. This ship is sailing in our direction, and we’ve got nothing left to barter passage with elsewhere. So we take our chances here, or start marching across the aqueduct on foot and praying for a miracle. And considering we stole this habit of mine off a clothesline at a convent, I’m not too sure any of the divinities will be in a mood to answer nicely.’

Mister Kindly began licking a translucent paw on his perch above the door.

‘… this whole endeavour would be made infinitely easier if, o, i don’t know, we could somehow make ourselves unseen for the rest of the journey …’

Mia scowled up at her passenger. ‘It’s truelight, Mister Kindly. I can barely manage to hide me and Jonnen with those accursed suns in the sky. But my thanks for making me feel shittier about our predicament than I already did.’

‘… you are most welcome … ’ he purred.

Mia turned her eyes to the door the privateer had left by.

‘Our captain seems a clever one,’ she murmured.

‘PERHAPS TOO CLEVER,’ Tric said.

‘No such thing, in my experience.’