Part 14: "Checking In"

1 0 0
                                    

The Harbor (West)


The Brigadier's Ransom creaked and rocked on the tidal waves and currents that trudged by underneath it. The morning's disruption had dissipated into an uneasy stillness.

Reva sighed as she toyed with the loose ends of the tack lines. They were all in order, and had been since they moored at the dock. It wasn't her fault Sally liked to pick fights--so why did it feel like the Captain had put her in time out? Her eyes wandered over to the Elfin swashbuckler seated on the foredeck, placidly tending to that shining sword that, as far as Reva knew, barely saw combat. Yet the way the others treated her, one could easily assume that she was as deadly as she was docile. Reva snorted and shook her head, ducking to avoid a swooping raven.

"Oi, Keaton!" She shouted up to the nest on the foremast. "Watch where you aim those things!"

The wiry young man with the long rat-like ponytail reached out an arm, and the raven landed on it. Reva rolled her eyes. He had an affinity for those winged scavengers that bordered on obsession, it seemed sometimes. They took to him well enough.

Behind Reva, someone sniffed.

"What do you care about those things getting too close, Reva?" Cori, the ship's navigator, sniffed and leaned against the railing beside her. She eyed the brown-haired rigger up and down. "Their claws barely scratch you, and you never style your hair, so it's not as if they could ruin it!" The tall, slender redhead reached up to smooth down an errant lock of hair on her own perfectly-coifed head.

Reva tilted an eyebrow at her friend. "I don't like things flying at my face, is all."

"If that's true," came Keaton's heavily-accented voice from above them, "then I don't know why you signed on to be a rigger!"

Reva scowled in the direction of the fore-topyard, her boots resting on the top of the railing as her hands found purchase on the taut rigging. "Half a minute!" she howled. "I'll show you why I'm the best damn--"

"Reva, get down, and stop your shouting!" The boatswain, Watson, came staggering up from the galley, a half-full tankard in his hand. He squinted against the lengthening shadows around her as Reva landed lightly on the deck again. He ran the back of his wrist over his nose. "You want something to do?" he grunted. "Cook needs to pick up some more provisions in the market," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the small, dark-skinned girl in the ragged dress cowering behind him, "and she needs somebody to go with her."

Reva curled her lip. "You expect me to babysit the pipsqueak in this squalor-hole?" She smirked and added, "After the rabble-rousing you all did just an hour ago?"

Watson glared at her. "I expect you to do as you're told!" he snarled. "Take Seline with you if you're feeling jumpy. They trust her."

Reva glanced up toward the Elf. Seline's pale-gold pixie cut never looked messy, greasy, or overgrown--as if some kind of magic preserved her appearance exactly the same day in and day out. The rest of the crew might smell like the ripe end of a barn after a week at sea, but Seline hardly smelled like anything, at least as far as Reva could tell.

Seline came to stand next to Reva as the galley-maid handed her a large basket with several bags inside. The expression on the young girl's face was a mix of fear and apology. Reva let her lips tighten in a small scowl. She was nobody's packhorse--least of all the pipsqueak!

Beside her, Cori had perked up at the idea of an excursion into town. "Can I go too?" She asked.

"No," Watson objected almost immediately. "You stay on the ship."

Reva just about pushed the galley-maid down the gangplank with the basket in her hands as Cori's complaints reached her ears. Maybe by the time they got back, Haggard will have found this "old shipmate" he was looking for, and they could leave.

The Clan of Outcasts [Season 3]Where stories live. Discover now