Raw Winter

Chapter 26: What Matters

"I'm surprised you're still helping me," Chef Marcal told Rawintr as he glanced over at her, her arms deep in the sudsy dishwater as she scrubbed the fat from the plates. "You already got what you wanted, didn't you? The coveted right hand of our captain? Or are you looking for something more?"

"I may look for something more, but I don't need your approval to get it. I guess it would be nice if you approved of me once I take it, but it's unnecessary," she answered.

"You mean to kill him, and you ought to know no matter who you are, it's best to have the good graces of the cook, especially if they're the only cook. You and I both know what a man with a meal can do to a person," he told her.

"I don't know how long I'll be on the ship after," she answered.

"What are you aiming for then?" He said.

"I'm aiming for the top. After, I'm going to take care of something that might be the end of me. There's a good chance I won't need food then," she told him.

"I don't know what you're on about, but it helps to eat if you're off for something big," he said.

"I don't know if what I'm aiming for is something big or something final, and either way I would prefer to starve than to die at their hands. I would rather it be for that," she said.

"Just come out with it. You're speaking riddles. That eye might make the others think you're some seer, but I see what you are. You're a scared girl. Maybe even a mad one," Marcal grumbled. Rawintr imagined there was some warmth in his tone that he didn't share with many.

"I'm thinking of finding the man responsible for what happened to my mother," she said solemnly.

"Hades?" Marcal barked. They all knew by now how she had come to be on the ship as a little girl. "You can probably find him right outside. I can't imagine why you're looking so hard."

"No," she said. "I'm talking about the noble that hired him to do that to her. I know he had no reason to attack a bread shop otherwise. What money would he find in a bakery?"

Marcal's face skewed up as she glanced at him—he was on the side of her good eye. She could only imagine he was thinking of a joke he wasn't willing to say. He tamed his expression and finally said, "I can't imagine, so that sounds about right. What are you going to do then? Are you going to run him through and then take the information?"

"I might get the information first. It'll be easier that way. I think he expects me to," she said, "and to let him live feels as if it's only doing half the job. You yourself are firm believer of doing a job right, aren't you?"

Marcal frowned, but nodded sharply. He wasn't in the business of correcting her, but he knew what she intended meant he would be out of the business once it was all said done, but he wasn't too fretful. It wasn't hard to get work as a cook, whether it was on or off a pirate ship, though he preferred it to be on one. The quiet life wasn't fitting for him, even if he lived the wild one quietly.

She nodded briefly and continued to wash the dishes in silence. He had expected her to abandon the job after that, but she continued to work until she finished it and then she walked out.

When she walked out, she stood on the deck as if contemplating something, before she called out to Hades. The man was standing by the railing, watching how his ship skipped the waves in lazy progress. It wouldn't be long before they would see port, maybe another day, and he had been looking forward to a fresh drink, unmarred by the salt of the sea.

"Hades Smith," she called again, walking towards him when he didn't respond immediately. When she called again, he raised his head to look at her and then walked to meet her halfway.