Salveran Tides

Chapter Two: The Dread Pirate Rydell

I saw her, of course. How could I not? All the hearsay around the Main is true; Scarlet Rydell leads from the front. She

wants

it to be known that it’s her what’s sunk your ship. She showed mercy only to me, so that I may be humiliated and forced to tell the tale to you, Confessor. Flame help me, I’d sooner never set foot aboard a ship again if I never had to see her crimson sails bearing down on me ever again. Once was damn well enough. (A disgraced Flame Church Templar, in a statement to a confessor.)

Scarlet knew that she was extremely lucky for things to have played out the way they had. She hadn’t believed in the notion of fate for years. But it was hard to deny that she’d only been able to get off the island and escape being marooned by a

very

fortunate series of circumstances. If Leona hadn’t washed up on the beach like she had, she would have had nothing to barter with the smugglers with, save perhaps for her body.

Given how things had turned out with them, it was probably for the best things hadn’t gone that route.

She opened up the last drawer in the small crew cabin, rifling through the contents. So far, she’d found almost nothing worth pilfering. The pants all smelled, the shirts had stains in the armpits, and none of the smugglers had possessed a fashionable accessory between them save for a spotted bandanna that now sat upon her head at a jaunty angle. No earrings, no jewelry, not even a good bottle of whiskey. If this was as good as they were, she’d probably done their organization a favor by offing them and leaving them behind.

Scarlet stood up and turned to face the cabin. She’d turned out every cupboard and drawer she could see. “No way that’s all of it,” she muttered, looking around slowly. She moved through the space slowly, nudging clothes out of her path with the toe of her boot and tuning out the ambient noise of the boat creaking and the ocean lapping against the keel.

Creak.

Scarlet went still, then slowly settled her weight on her back foot. When she pressed down with the toe of her boot, the creak came again. “There you are,” she said, turning and dropping down to her knees.

It took her only a moment to find the seam hidden in the floor, and another moment to follow it around to the hidden latch cleverly disguised as part of the floor. When she pressed on the edge of the small wood square, it spun around, a handle on the other side. Scarlet twisted it and pulled, opening up the secret compartment. It was no cargo hold, big enough for her to reach an arm down into, but surely there had to be something stashed away.

Scarlet lay on her belly with her arm extended into the hole, feeling around for whatever might be in there. Glass brushed her fingers, and she fumbled around before closing her hand around the neck of a bottle. “Out you come,” she grunted as she hauled it out. The bottle was tall, made of a thick glass that had been blacked out, as if someone had covered it in soot inside and out. Scarlet fished out two more bottles of the same size, and jammed her hand back in the compartment for more. But after fumbling around for a solid minute, and reaching all the way down so her fingers touched the wood at the bottom, she found nothing else.

“Bugger, that’s it?” Scarlet sat up and examined her find. Seemed like the smugglers had been on their way to do a pickup, rather than a drop off. She scowled. Guess her luck wasn’t going to be

that

good.

She took one of the heavy bottles in hand, giving it a little shake. Liquid sloshed around inside. Scarlet bit down on the cork and pulled her head back until it popped out. A pungent fruit smell wafted up to her nose, a melange of raspberries and blackberries with the chemical bite of fermentation. She took a swig, rolling the alcohol around on her tongue for a moment. It was a mead of some kind, a subtle honey flavor to the drink becoming obvious as she swallowed.

“Not bad,” she said, recorking the bottle. Scarlet gathered the three bottles up and wrapped them up in a shirt, stowing them in one of the drawers for later. Then she set about piling up the smugglers’ clothes. She didn’t plan on using this vessel for long, just until she got her beloved

Lady Sanguine

back.

As she walked out of the cabin with the pile of laundry in her hands, Leona glanced up from her place tied to the mast. Scarlet knew the mermaid was studying her intently every time she was within line of sight - she was doing the same thing. Leona wasn’t the first of her people that Scarlet had seen. The Flame Church had captured one once. Poor bastard was now long-dead, his carcass preserved in amber for study. She hadn’t been making things up on the fly when painting a grim picture for Leona before.

With a grunt, Scarlet heaved all the clothes over the side of the ship. They made no sound as they hit the water, the lighter garments immediately getting sucked under the ship’s wake. At Leona’s questioning look, she gestured to the cabin. “I need storage space.”

“Hmph.”

Scarlet still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Leona. She knew how to read humans, of course. Reading body language and other, more subtle cues had been an integral part of her past life. But for all her efforts to build a profile of the mermaid Princess, she found herself second-guessing some of her assumptions. Leona a physical strength to her, that much had been proven during their brawl on the beach. However, she didn’t carry herself like a warrior. Her blows had been desperate and unfocused, and she’d washed up on the island with no weapons of any kind in evidence, or wounds that might suggest she’d been involved in some underwater death battle.

But Scarlet knew there had to be more. The merfolk were one of those mysterious races that didn’t have a large societal presence in the larger world of Siraglia. They stayed in their underwater domain most of the time. Here and there were stories of them being spotted above water, but most of the time such sightings came around areas where ships dared not to go, for fear of sinking themselves on rocks hidden under the waves. Scarlet assumed they were by and large a peaceful lot; they’d never mounted any kind of offense against the surface world. Then again, they likely didn’t need to. The seas were vast and deep, and they probably had all they needed down there.

So what was Leona doing unconscious on the beach?

Scarlet shook her head as she moved back around the cabin to the tiller at the aft of the ship. She was thinking like she used to, back when her job had been to determine threats to the Church and act accordingly. Of course, it was only later in her life that she realized that her thought processes had been intentionally stoked and manipulated by her superiors into reaching conclusions that were wrong.

Best not to think about it too much. So long as she behaves, I’ll keep my word and give her things back when this is all said and done.

The smugglers kept a chart of the Salveras Main in a waterproof holster by the tiller, along with a compass. Their captain had been sticking pins in it to mark their progress, with the last one being the little island they’d met their fate on. Scarlet had gotten her bearings the night before using the stars, and had put the small ship on a course for Garsborough. If her figuring was right, they’d reach the port by dark. Now if she could just remember whether she was still wanted in the town or not. Back on her ship, her

real

ship, she’d had a wall in her cabin dedicated to keeping track of it all. The Dread Pirate Rydell, after all, had struck many places in the last half a decade. But none had ever managed to capture her. And none ever would.

Scarlet began singing a little ditty under her breath to pass the time as the wind blew the small ship across the waters. Her voice rang out clear and loud.

We shall steal a ship, you and me

To the sea, to the sea, to the sea

Our path is clear and free

To the sea, to the sea, to the sea

Out to the farthest waves, you and me

To the sea, to the sea, to the sea

On a path all our own we shall be

To the sea, to the sea, to the sea

Garsborough materialized in the distance a few hours later, solidifying as the sun dipped low towards the horizon. It was a small, modest port, not a part of the main island chain that arced through the Salveran ocean, but still close enough that it answered to the mainland’s laws and those of the Church. Scarlet had given up trying to figure out if she was still wanted or not. So long as the port looked favorably upon the Flame Church, that was reason enough for her to want to play it low-key. Now was not the time to go swaggering up main street like she owned the thing.

Scarlet steered the small cutter at an angle away from the inlet to the port, instead moving around to the rocky shallows on the opposite end of the small island. Minding herself, she carefully steered the ship into a small depression in the cliff. It wasn’t a full-on cave like she would have preferred, but at the very least it kept any curious passersby from seeing the cutter at any angle other than looking straight at it from further out to sea.

Scarlet lashed the tiller in place, then dropped the craft’s small anchor. She jammed her knife in her belt and walked back around to the mast. “Right, Princess, here’s what’s going to happen.”

“I do have a name, you know,” Leona deadpanned.

“Titles are important, Princess. If you got one, flaunt it.” Scarlet knelt down in front of her. “Now as I was saying. I shant be gone for too long. I’m going to pop into town and enlist the services of a friend, and then we’ll return here and set sail again.”

“Wait, what about me?” Leona asked. “DIdn’t you say you needed me for some purpose?”

“That’s later,” Scarlet said, standing back up. “Right now all I need you to do is sit there and look pretty.” She clapped her hands. “And you’re doing an excellent job.”

Leona glowered at her. “I hate very few things. But you’re getting there, human.”

“I have that effect on people,” Scarlet said, walking around the mast to the bow. She used the ratty bandanna to tie her hair back. “Eventually you’ll hate me so much you’ll love me. That’s how it always goes, Princess.”

Scarlet dove off the bow into the ocean, the cold water enveloping her like a pair of familiar bedsheets. She floated underneath for a moment before kicking her legs and pumping her arms. She broke the surface a moment later, then swam out of the inlet and around the curve of where the sheer cliff face dipped into the water.

It took her a few minutes to find a place low enough for her to find handholds on the rocks and pull herself up out of the ocean. Water cascaded off her as she did, making her shirt stick to her skin. For the first time in a long time, Scarlet regretted her policy to not wear brassieres. The tanned skin on her chest was slightly visible through the wet shirt, the nubs of her nipples poking up. She peeled it off her skin with her fingers, shaking loose the water droplets that clung to the fabric. At the very least it would keep her cool as she trekked through the jungle.

Scarlet picked her way through the foliage, heading in what she thought was the general direction of the town. It took her some time, but eventually she broke through the treeline and found herself on the bluffs overlooking Garsborough. The small port had been hacked out of the jungle, the fallen trees repurposed into the buildings and docks. Despite its size, the town was a busy place, with many a sailor walking the docks and crowding the taverns near the waterline. Further inland the buildings turned into residencies and specialist shops, with the port’s cathedral looming over it all right where the treeline was.

Much as she would’ve liked to make a detour to set said cathedral on fire, Scarlet knew it would have to wait for another time. She had other business to attend to.

She approached the town from the woods, keeping an eye out for any town watch on patrol or stationed on the rooftops. The last thing she needed was to be spotted and hailed. Her distinct hair color didn’t exactly leave much room to doubt who she was. Even if she wasn’t on any official wanted list in the town, she was sure someone would try to do what the smugglers had. They’d meet the same fate, but that a waste of time she couldn’t afford.

It took her a moment for her to get her bearings; some of the shops had changed since she’d last been here a year before. Back then she’d tried committing the entire area around Yesseil’s new place to memory, and her recollection was pretty accurate. She only made two wrong turns before realizing where she was, then doubling back and heading to where she needed to be.

The sign above Yesseil’s shop door was written in several languages, among them Imperial, Salveran, and Yesseil’s native elvish tongue that Scarlet couldn’t quite remember the name of. The building was one of the newer ones, the oak logs that made up the structure not quite as weathered by the tropical climate as some of the older ones closer to the beach. Curtains were visible through the windows, drawn tight together to not even leave a crack to peek through. Scarlet looked up and down the street, seeing nobody, then set her shoulder against the heavy door and pushed. The thick wood didn’t budge. “Hmm.”

Scarlet took a step back, looking up at the second floor of the building. Curtains were drawn up there too. Unless Yesseil had moved out of the top space and was renting elsewhere? No, couldn’t be it. Scarlet walked a little bit further down the street until she found a small alley, then ducked in and walked around to the back of Yesseil’s building. There was no back door, unfortunately, but then again, these things were never easy.

She yanked out her knife and jammed the blade into the small gap between the logs, using it as a focal point to pull herself up. Scarlet wedged the toe of her boot into the gap a few logs lower, then plunged the knife into another gap. It was like rigging, just more solid and stable. It took her only a minute to get up to the second floor, and she used her knife to pick the lock on the upstairs window. A creak sounded as she eased it open, and she waited to see if anyone would come investigate. When nobody did, she hauled herself up over the lip of the window and into the second floor.

The inside was cool, the chill radiating from aqua-blue crystals held in a sconce in the corner of the bedroom she found herself in. Lots of obviously elvish objects were scattered across the space, showing that Yesseil still lived in the space. Or someone with an elf fetish did, at least. Scarlet walked through the room, her footsteps muffled on the thick floor rug. There was one way to be sure. She moved to the waist-high chest of drawers against the far wall, and opened the top drawer. An assortment of underwear and lingerie came into view, although it seemed as though the latter hadn’t had much use recently. Scarlet lifted the top pair of blue lacy underwear to find a very familiar black ensemble underneath. She smiled. This was definitely Yesseil’s space.

Out of the bedroom around the corner was the staircase leading down from the apartment into Yesseil’s shop below. Scarlet had to pick another locked door at the bottom to get in. The shop was open-concept, the center of the space clear and open for customers to walk through while the walls were lined with Yesseil’s wares - weapons. Lots and lots of custom weapons. She was always tinkering, always fiddling with something. Her current project was resting on the counter, a crossbow of some kind, along with a mug of cold tea that had been left behind. Scarlet picked it up and took a sip. Chamomile. Her cabin aboard the

Lady Sanguine

still smelled like it in some spots.

The heavy lock in the front door opened with a loud thunk, and Scarlet leaned on the counter, still sipping from the cold tea. Yesseil had to use her whole body weight to shove the front door open. The door hadn’t been constructed with elven “speed over strength” body types in mind. She was muttering something in Elvish as she shut the door behind her, throwing the bolt with a motion that took her whole arm.

Yesseil turned, saw Scarlet, and shrieked, dropping the burlap sack she’d been holding. It hit the floor, bits of scrap metal clinking across the floor as she did. “Scarlet!”

“Hello, Yesseil,” Scarlet purred, raising the teacup a fraction. “Hope you don’t mind, I haven’t had chamomile in a fair bit.”

“What are you doing here?” Yesseil hissed. She knelt down, a motion that made her cloth breeches pull taut against her slender thighs and the curve of her rear. Her delicate hands made quick motions like a bird fishing for food as she snatched up the scrap. “How did you get in here?”

“Popped in through the upstairs window.” Scarlet set the tea cup down, patting the sheathed knife at her side.

“Wonderful.” Yesseil straightened up with her sack and walked over to the counter. The burlap made a clunk noise as she set it down. “Now I have a lock to fix.”

“You can do that in five minutes.” Scarlet reached over and put her hand atop the elf’s. “Plenty of time for other things.”

Yesseil yanked her hand free quickly. “Please. Things aren’t like that anymore.”

Scarlet gasped and put a hand to her chest. “You wound me.”

The elf gave her a flat look. “Nothing does. That’s

why

things aren’t like that anymore. I ask again, what are you doing here?”

Scarlet stepped away from the counter and moved towards the walls. “I have need of your talents, Yesseil. For a job.”

“You said those exact same words before stealing three years of my life from me,” Yesseil said.

“Really? Is

that

what you call it?” Scarlet picked one of the pistols off the walls, one of the more function over form designs. It weighed next to nothing in her hand, both the metal and wood components made of light yet sturdy materials. She bent the barrel on its axis to expose the breech, revealing a chamber that could fit realm-standard munitions or Yesseil’s special shells. “Not a young elf maiden looking for adventure and a way to get the knickers of her entire extended family in a twist?”

“I was young,” Yesseil said. She crossed one arm over her chest, as if she was trying to make herself smaller. “Reckless. Willing to use my talents for anyone who would take me.”

“We could talk for hours about all the ways I’ve taken you.” Scarlet spun the pistol around her finger, the breech snapping shut with the motion. “But don’t give me that, Yess. You elves live far longer than we do, a couple years is a drop in the bucket for you.”

“You know as well as I do people can change rather quickly, Scarlet. The total amount of days my life will last has no effect on that at all.”

“Fair, but this change isn’t

you.

I know you, Yesseil, and I know this whole...shopkeeper business? You’re sitting on so much talent that could otherwise be put to good use.”

Yesseil lifted her head and thrust out her chin. “I do good business here, Scarlet. This is a good town to be a craftswoman.”

Scarlet arched an eyebrow at the elf. She reached up to the tall part of the shelf and ran a fingertip along the underbelly of the large blunderbuss suspended on brackets there. Her fingertip came away covered in a film of dust. A long moment passed as she rubbed her fingers against one another. “Good business, I see.”

Yesseil’s ears canted backwards a little. Scarlet had always wondered if elf genomes got crossed with felines at some point. “It’s...high up there. Out of reach, you know?”