Corvus (Stars and Sails, Book 1)

Nine (Part 1 of 3)

Aiden felt around his scorpion shoe and withdrew Tanner's gun. He was careful to hold the barrel down as he laid it on the counter. All too often could a normal gun trade be confused for a robbery. The shopkeeper took a good look at it. He turned it both ways and felt the detailing.

"Does it work?" the shopkeeper asked.

"Sure does. Saw my boss—uh, I killed a regular old hawk with that thing." Aiden felt bad for lying, cause he wasn't one to kill hawks for sport.

"How about twenty octans?" The man pushed a pile of coins across the old scratched counter.

Aiden stared at the eight-sided coins. "Twenty? That gun's worth more than twenty of anything," he said. "And honest, sir, I'm giving you a discount."

"Is it really that valuable?" The shopkeeper asked, taking another look at the pistol.

"My gods, just look at her," Aiden said, tapping his foot. "Like gold she is. Shoots a bullseye every time." The shopkeeper looked incredulous, but he took another look. He sighed, his eyes raising to meet Aiden's.

"Alright, then. Come back within the week. I'll have you settled for forty octans. I haven't the coin now." Everyone knew how sluggish business was at the end of June, what with everyone staying in their homes to escape the heat. All Aiden had to do was hold onto that gun for a week. After he sold it, he could take a passenger ship to somewhere, anywhere. Forty octans was more than enough. Forty octans would get him sailing and a big meal and a big cup full of ice and water. Aiden perspired just thinking about it.

Before Aiden left, the shopkeeper leaned over the counter. "What about the compass? I'd buy that."

Aiden tightened his hand over the compass he wore around his neck. "I ain't selling it."

Dead Man's Palm was a bigger town built into five ridges of pale, treacherous rocks like fingers. They said that the founder sat down on a stoop with a handful of sunflower seeds. The seeds were poisoned, and he collapsed, his palm open, and the seeds scattering. That was why people came from miles around for an Aydesrevean sunflowers—they probably won't kill you, unlike the ones from Dead Man's Palm.

As Aiden was leaving the settlement, a man on his way into town approached him. It was Josh Holden. Aiden didn't keep up much with politics, but it was hard not to keep up with Holden, a man far too handsome and busy to notice someone like him, not for the reasons he would hope at least. Aiden didn't know how great he felt about admitting it as easy as Haworth did, but he too had done a lot of admiring. Between Josh Holden and Amelia Rose, there was a whole lot to look at these days.

As he came up on Aiden, he took a good look at his shoes and laughed quietly to himself.

"Would you look at those," he said.

"Thanks." Aiden's taste was impeccable, wasn't really a wonder someone had come around to his boots.

"I almost feel compelled to do charity work," Holden said. He huffed and snapped the reins. His dark horse began to move forward. "But then everyone would want fitting shoes from me, and I'm simply not kind enough."

"Well if you thought about it," Aiden called out. Holden tugged at the reins, easing his horse to a halt. "Then maybe you ain't so bad after all. Not that I need new shoes."

"My, how you have it all twisted up," Holden said, his mouth popping on the "p". when he talked he seemed to give every word the attention it deserved. He gave Aiden one last look, a little longer this time and continued into town. Nice looking, sure, but Holden was a strange and callous one. Aiden ought to get used to it. He was a shoe in for mayor now that his father's term was ending. While mean, Josh Holden was the perfect politician.

It took Aiden an hour to ride back to the mine and all along the way, his boots were slipping in and out of the stirrups. His feet were growing smaller again, and the scorpion shoes were growing in strides. They were gulping Aiden down like he was a fish in the throat of a crane. When he got back to the claim, he tied up Rich Haworth's horse, Nova, and filled her trough with water. Nova buried her snout in and snorted. Water sprayed all over Aiden.
It cooled him right off and he laughed. He drank from his canteen. The water overwhelmed his mouth and spilled over his lips. It trickled down his neck and chest. He immediately regretted it. How wasteful he could be with water. After four years of bathing in the ocean, Aiden's hair was gritty, and if he could have tasted it, he was sure it would be a pure salt lick.

He ended his Saturday by panning for gold. By the time he was done, he had three full jars. Shame he'd never taken any for himself. It seemed enough gold to drown a man had once passed through Aiden's fingertips and then it off and vanished.