Moonlight Waves

Layshmen

Layshmen is bigger than I expected. Still an island and smaller than Crescent Island, but it stretches in both directions for a couple miles. A few mountains even sit upon it, their white peeks blocking out the sky.
The Hangman slowly eases it's way into the rundown, but workable dock and the crew begins to lower the anchor. It's early morning and only a few people are out roaming the dock, some working and some are simply passed out drunk over crates.
Captain Cutler walks up beside me and leans against the railing as the others lower the gangplank.
"Don't do or say anything that will sound suspicious." She warns me, "The kind of people here won't think twice about running you through if they think you're prying into people's lives."
"Okay." I say.
"When you ask about the Widower don't be direct about it, ask about it in a round about way." She tells me.
"Got it." I answer her, leaning down and checking to make sure my knife is still tucked securely in my boot.
"Here," Sahar says, dropping a few coins into my hand. "buy a drink. The tavern is the best place to get information and if you're not drinking that'll be a dead give away."
She doesn't give me a chance to answer as she descends down the gangplank to talk to the dock master. I tuck the coins securely into my pocket and walk down after her, Ian right on my heels.
"We should probably stick together." Ian whispers.
I nod my head and wait while Sahar pays the dock master, before we make our way down the center of town.
There seems to be a permanent odor in the air—something resembling blood, human waste, rum, moral decay, and.....sour milk? I try not to gag as the farther we walk into the town, the stronger the odor gets. The road is hardly a road as it is made up of holes and mud, and there's no sidewalk, only a few boards placed randomly at times over the biggest holes. The buildings aren't much better, but are made of sturdy wood and bricks. They all just seem to lean to the left a little too much—I have to tilt my head in order for them to stand straight.
I'm surprised when children go running past us, using sticks as their own versions of rapiers. Layshmen doesn't seem like the place that would have children, but I suppose everyplace has kids, no matter what kind of pig sty it is.
Sahar suddenly turns and walks into a small wood building at the end of the street, that leans right as all the other buildings leans left. A sign, barely hanging on, hangs above the doorway with faint white words scrawled across it. "The Mad Princess"  it reads.
"That's creepily creative." I tell Ian as we walk inside. He doesn't bother giving me a response, not caring the least about the name of this lovely establishment.
I thought outside looked and smelled bad, but the streets would seem like heaven compared to the stench occupying every corner of the squat building. There's ten times as many drunk men and women in here, half passed out and the other half laughing loudly and a few trying to sing as a scrawny man plays a song on a lute.
The crew immediately splits up in different directions, the majority of them heading for the bar. I make my way through the crowd of loud men and ill dressed woman, to a small table near the corner. Ian sits down at a table not that far from me where I can still keep him in the corner of my eye.
A woman comes over to me and asks me what I'd like to drink. I about tell her I don't want anything, but change my mind when I remember what Sahar said. I order a rum and a water, I plan on watering my drink down quite a bit.
I scan the crowd and find that Sahar has already striked up a conversation with the bartender and Ian is talking to one of the ladies. I try to find someone that I can casually walk up to, when a short man saves me the trouble.
He plops down in the seat across from me and leans forward on the table.
"This seat wasn't taken was it?" He asks me.
"No." I answer him.
"What's a pretty litle lady doin sittin all by urself?" He asks, a slight slur to his words. I fight back the comment that I'm not so little compared to his own size and instead try to find a roundabout way to ask about the Widower.
"Enjoying my drink." I say, lifting my drink of more water than rum to my lips and taking a sip.
"I've ain't never seen you aroun here befre." He comments.
"I came in with the Hangman." I say, not telling him if I have or have not been here before.
"Impressive." He says, "Not just anyone can join Captain Cutler's crew, yu'mus be prity special."
"Eh," I shrug, trying to give off an air of nonchalant. And then I lean in like I'm about to tell him a big secret and he automatically leans in closer too—I try not wince at his breathe. "They're not as impressive as rumor has it. In fact, I'm looking for some other work, something more my speed."
"And wht wuld yur speed be?" He whispers, like we're discussing something secretive.
"Something more daring," I say with a slight smile, "a little more dangerous."
"All piratin' is dring and dangrous, gorgeous." He answers.
"True, but not all pirates are willing to step into the danger." I say.
"Ever hear of The Night's Scream?" He asks me.
"No." I say, hiding my disappointment that he didn't say Widower.
"They ain't popular, but they're a dangrous lot. They ain't evn in it for the money, they just like the thrill of being shot at."
"Hmmmm," I muse, acting interested. "that's a possibility. Who else?"
"Well," he thinks, tapping his fingers on the table. "There's the Widower, they new aroun these parts. But they don't hire just an'body, I don't think they hire anyne that they don't know personally."
"I like a challenge." I tell him, "Where could I find this Widower?"
He sighs and leans back into his seat, "No one realy knows. One minute they're here and the next they're not, there don't seem to be any methd to their attacks. But they're attacking merchant trade routes—-the darn pillagers are scaring away every merchant from here to Borinn."
I take another sip of my rum/water, trying to keep up the look of indifference as I continue to question him. "There's really no way of knowing where they could be?"
"Nah," he says, "you be better taking yur chances with The Night's Scream. They'll seem friendly compared to the crew of The Widower."
That comment does little to ease my anxiety over Roman, but before I can come up with another question, a woman dressed in a ugly color of pink drapes herself over the short man.
"There you are, sweetie," she prunes, "I've been looking for you. I'm ready to go for that walk now."
The short man jumps up from his chair and grabs the pink lady by the arm, puffing out his chest and straightening his spine, though it does little to make up the height difference between the two—the pink lady even slouches a little to try and help him.
"Excuse me, Miss." short man says to me, "I have.....business to attend to."
The two saunter off and I'm left feeling disappointed that I couldn't get anything more from the man. Captain Cutler has moved onto someone else and Ian now has two woman on either side of him who seem more than happy to chat away with him. They probably don't get very many guys who just want to listen to what they have to say.
I look around the room and find two men sitting by themselves at a table. Not talking, laughing, or passed out. They simply sit there drinking and watching everyone else.
I give it a few minutes, not watching them specifically, but watching everyone else like they are. I make sure to make eye contact with one of the men, who has no hair but striking blue eyes.
I make eye contact, look away.
Look back around the room, 'accidentally' make eye contact again, quickly pull my gaze away.
One more time, take a sip of my drink, look up, make eye contact. Hold for two seconds, look away.
I give it three more minutes, then I get up from my seat, grab my drink and make my way slowly across the room towards their table. I set my drink on the table and they both look up at me. I have to muster my courage as the second man with thinning black hair glares at me.
"Mind if I sit here?" I ask them as I go ahead and pull out the seat and sit down.
The bald man and the thinning black hair man say, "no" and "yes" at the same time.
"What's wrong with your table?" Thinning hair man asks me, the glare still chiseled to his face.
I turn my head and give him a glare right back, glad this isn't back home or else Amadrya would've kicked me ten times over by now.
"It had a wobbly leg." I lie.
Thinning hair man guffaws and takes a huge gulp of his drink before turning his gaze back to the busy tavern.
"I saw you come in with The Hangman's crew," Bald man says, and then motions towards Ian, "you and the dark haired kid are new."
"You're observant." Is all say, watching Ian laugh at something one of the ladies said.
"How'd you come to be a part of Captain Cutler's crew?" He asks me.
I way my options of what to say. What would be the best approach for these two?
"We were sailors on a passenger ship when it was attacked." I begin a fake tale, "My buddy and I were the only ones who jumped ship and made it out. Captain Cutler found us adrift and took us on as her crew."
"Who attacked you?" Thinning hair man asks me, finally taking interest in our conversation.
"I don't know who exactly, but I know the ship was The Widower." I tell them, "Ever heard of her?"
"Yeah," thinning hair man says slowly, "I heard of her."
"If I had my chance I'd take her down." I tell them, "I lost a lot of good friends when my ship went down."
"Is that so?" Bald man says, "So are you looking for her?"
"Not at the moment, but I'd like to." I say.
"Does that mean Captain Cutler will be going against Captain Nico?" Thinning hair man asks.
"Oh, I don't know." I say, "This is my quest for revenge, not hers."
"I see." Thinning hair man says as he watches two men wrestle each other out the door.
"Do you know where I could find The Widower?" I ask them straight out, "If I could get Captain Cutler to help me avenge my friends, it'd be helpful to know where they are."
"Sorry, missy," Bald man says, "They're staying off our charts."
"And I wouldn't get on their bad side by giving away their location." Thinning hair man grunts.
I lift my drink to my lips and take a big gulp, I'm already getting tired of getting nowhere with these pirates and I've only talked to three of them.
I make more small talk so that I didn't just talk about The Widower and then excuse myself from their company.
The stench is starting to make me nauseous so I make my way outside and take in a deep breathe to try and clear my senses, but that was a huge mistake because the air outside isn't much better than inside. I start to cough and I try to stifle it, coughing with my mouth closed. I walk to the end of the building and lean my hand against it as I gag/cough against the smell of the place. My coughing stops and I lean my head against the wall, taking shallow breathes. The sound of small feet running makes me look up and I see three small children coming towards me and then stop in front of me. A young boy about seven years old steps forward from his friends and looks up at me shyly, then extends a small hand towards me.
"Could you spare us a few coins, Miss?" He asks, "We'd like to buy a cup of cocoa from the cafe."
I don't remember seeing a cafe when we came into town, but I may have over looked it or it may be on another street. I still have three coins left from what Sahar gave me, I finger them in my pocket and then go ahead and pull them out. I don't know how much the cocoa cost and there's three of them, if there's money left over they could get themselves something else too.
I drop the three coins into his dirty hand and close his fingers over them.
"There should be enough extra for you and friends to get something else too." I tell them.
The kid's mouthes spread into a toothless grin and they bolt off down the street. I watch as they run down the street and suddenly turn and go into a alleyway. I can just make out a raggedy dressed woman at end of the alleyway talking to the children. She holds out a withered hand and the small boy proudly drops the three coins into the woman's hand. The woman pats each child on the head before they run off, stopping to talk to another man walking down the street. The boy holds out his hand again, but the man pushes them aside and keeps walking. I turn my attention back to the old woman and watch as she places the three coins in her blouse.
I am mad, oh so very mad. At the old woman, the children who so easily fooled me, and mad at myself for being so utterly naive. I can't get Sahara's money back now, there's no way I can prove that the money was mine in the first place, and I'm willing to bet that those children will deny anything about me giving them money.
I cross my arms and lean back against the wall again, the door to the tavern just to the right of me. I scan the streets for anyone I can talk to that's not intoxicated like the majority of the men and women in the tavern and continue to take shallow breathes through my mouth.
  A group of boys a little farther up the road grabs my attention and I watch as they pass a bottle of rum between the six of them. They seem to be about mine or Roman's age, maybe a little older. Late seventeens to middle twenties, possibly.
  I consider going over there and striking up a conversation with them, but then they notice me and smiles spread across their faces. They start to whistle and holler at me. "Come on over here!", and "Share a drink with us!".
   "Learn some manners!" I holler back at them, and that sends them into a round of laughter.
  I turn on my heel to go back inside the tavern when I run straight into a man's chest. I quickly back up and mumble my apologies. I have to crank my neck up to meet his bright green eyes. He's got to be over 6 foot, maybe even 6 foot 5", whatever his exact height—he's tall.
  "Rumor has it you want revenge against The Widower." He says, his voice deep and he has a strong accent I can't place yet.
  "Word spreads fast." I say.
He takes a step towards me and I stumble backwards, feeling dwarfed in his height.
  "I come from the Northern seas," He says, his bright green eyes bearing into mine. "when The Widower had pillaged and raided everywhere it could I was forced to come down south. And now they are here again to take away the lively hood of us noble pirates."
  I recognize his accent as Italian now and I have to bite my lip from saying something about "noble pirates", and I take another step backwards as he steps forward again.
  "Captain Nico is the one who gave me this!" He says loudly as he raises up his shirt to reveal his stomach that doesn't have a scratch on it.
  I look up at him partly confused and scared at this maniac in front of me.
  He steps away from me and starts to laugh. He holds up a finger as to make me hold on a second as he laughs at himself.
  "You should've seen your face." He wheezes, his voice an octave higher than it was a second ago. "You really thought I was serious about my 'backstory', didn't you?"
   I let my arms fall to my side in frustration.
"Do you not know anything about The Widower than?" I ask.
   "Oh, yes, I definitely do." He tells me, "I've just never seen the infamous Captain Nico myself."
  "But you know where they are now?" I ask, getting my hopes up.
"Yes, I do." He says.
  I stand there and wait for him to tell me, but he doesn't say anything, just stands there and rocks back and forth on his feet.
  "Well?" I ask, my patience growing thin.
"Oh, I'm going to need some sort of payment." He says, "Or if you'd like I could lead you to them, come aboard your ship and be your very own compass. I'll need payment throughout the trip of course."
  I don't have any money and I definitely can't speak for Captain Dax or Captain Cutler on taking someone else onto their crew. I hold up a finger and step around him.
  "Wait right here." I tell him. I walk back into the tavern and make my way to Sahar, she's standing by the bar and flirting with a dirty looking man. Clearly trying to gain information. I step behind her and tap her shoulder, drawing her attention to me. She turns around and the man she was talking to walks away.
"I was just finally getting somewhere with him." She complains.
"There's a man outside," I tell her, "he says he knows where The Widower is. But he wants to be paid and he says he'll even go aboard our ship, if he's paid."
She sighs and runs a hand down her face. "Everybody has their price. Let's go see what his is."
We make our way back outside and Ian joins us. The man is still standing there and he straightens his shoulders at seeing Captain Cutler.
  "What's your price?" Sahar says, cutting straight to the chase.
  "I didn't know you were so keen on revenge too." He says.
  "I'm not after revenge." She says curtly, "Now, what's your price to take us to Captain Nico?"
The man taps his chin for a second before seeming to come to a decision. "I'll take five pounds of gold."
"Pfff," Sahar sputters, turning away to look at me before looking back at the man. "That's highway robbery for something as simple as a location."
"Yes, but you have to take into account of who's location I'm giving you." He says.
"I'll give you one pound of gold and not a coin more." Sahar tells him.
The man shoves his hands into his pockets and weighs his options. "All right," he finally says, "that'll do."
He holds out his hand and Sahar shakes it.
"Ian, gather up my men. We're leaving." Sahar says and Ian steps back into the tavern.
"Leaving already?" The man asks.
"Got a problem with that?" Sahar responds.
"No, no, not at all." He says.
Sahar grabs my arm and we start to walk down the muddied street back towards the docks.
"Name?" Sahar asks, angling her head at the man.
He doesn't answer right away, but then realizes she's talking to him and jogs up beside us.
"Oh, umm, my name is Jacobe." He tells us.
"Nice to meet you." Sahar deadpans. "Now where are we headed?"
"South." Is all Jacobe says.
Sahar turns around and makes him stop walking, tilting her head backwards to look at him, but the glare she's giving him makes him shrink to her height.
"Care to be more specific?" She asks him, almost like a threat.
"I've dealt with pirates long enough to know that you don't show all your cards at once." Jacobe tells her, "I know where they are, I'm no liar, but I'll give you the directions as needed. I don't want to tell you their location and then end up dead because I'm of no more use."
Sahar huffs and I place a hand on her elbow.
"He's got a point." I whisper to her.
She rolls her eyes, but then plants her hands on her hips in defeat.
"Fine, whatever." She says, "Go get your belongings, we're leaving now."
"Yes, ma'am." Jacobe says, then dashes back up the street into the tavern.
"He better be telling the truth." Sahar warns me, "If he's just trying to pull a con on us, I'll drop his butt in the sea so fast he won't even have time to call for his mommy."
"And I'd help you." I tell her, watching Jacobe's form recede into the tavern as Cutler's crew exits it. I turn back to Sahar to see her smiling at my comment.
"Come on." She says, slapping me on the back. "We have somewhat of a heading."