The road to Bellosca's western coast flattened under a dizzying, endless sky.
After days of camping out or staying in roadhouse inns, Cade knew she was approaching the sea when the air grew thick and sticky. A shelf of grey appeared on the horizon above the shimmering blue waves. Far out on the water, dark clouds climbed high with rainshaft curtains trailing beneath them. A blast of cool wind whipped Cade's hair, and she breathed the scent of brine and ozone.
Urdenza was a weathered town little-known to civilians but prized by seafarers. The Maelstrom's treacherous storms tended to break up over the island of Sacarro before reaching it, allowing the local fishing boats to go further out without fear of capsizing. "Freshest fish on the coast," Cade's guildmaster had told her with a wink.
And so dirt road gave way to cobblestone streets streaked with sand, and dried salt peeled paint off the sign at the edge of town. Urdenza got enough visitors that Cade's arrival wasn't shocking, but it was also small enough for her to be a novelty. She could feel the watchful eyes of locals on her back as she passed by.
She was used to the stares. People didn't know what drew their eye at first. Most mistook it for attraction; being a fair-skinned woman with long copper hair had that effect on people. This time of year in Bellosca, she dressed the part, too, with thin white blouses untied at the neckline, always draped too low or pulled up too high above the waistline of her linen pants. She kept her hair tied up and away from the curve of her neck — whatever let the breeze wick the sweat from her skin.
Most folks never figured out why Cade captured their attention, but some did, weeks later, when they realized she'd plodded under the midday sun the whole afternoon and didn't have a single freckle on her.
The fish market smelled. She wrinkled her nose. The fishmongers were in the midst of counting their profit for the day and breaking down their stalls. Old men mottled with sunspots smoked pipes and cracked jokes out the sides of their mouths. One of them, a halfling whose spine curved from the hours he spent hunched on the edge of his boat, waited at the edge of the market.
"You Trildy?" Cade asked.
He jumped, surprised at the sound of her voice. Eyeing her with one unclouded eye, the halfling replied, "Now, what's a lady like you doin' with the adventurer's guild?"
She grinned. "That's a yes, then."
"Give me a moment." Trildy pulled his pipe out of his mouth and turned back to packing away his wares. "Let's go somewhere private."
Trildy's house was a quaint old one-story thing maintained and repaired over the years by hand. Waved in through the front door, Cade found herself in one large open room used as both the kitchen and the living room, warmed by the same hearth used for cooking. There were two other rooms — a used bedroom and a guest room. Modest but cared-for.
"It ain't much, but I ain't messy," Trildy said. He tossed a fish on the counter and set to work cleaning it.
Cade looked at the low furniture — built for halflings — and opted to stand.
Trildy didn't have much new information for her besides what her guildmaster passed along. Some of the airships on their way to Revessa or the Bay were losing cargo around Urdenza. Most people along the coast didn't seem too worried, but this town's aging population remembered a time decades past when pirates ruled the sky and sea.
"Maybe it's nothin', but if it's somethin', I'd like to nip it in the bud," Trildy said.
"Do you know anything about who's doing it?"
He sniffed, something between amusement and annoyance. "I don't, but if anybody does, it'd be them drunks on the edge of town."
A small tributary of the great river Riçe Tervossa roped its way through the Belloscan countryside to the sea. The brackish wetland around the inlet served as Urdenza's northern border, and right where the mud flats gave way to sturdier soil, a run-down tavern called the Tide Pool stood its ground.
In the early hours of sundown, Cade hiked her way to the tavern on foot. A gust from the ocean brought with it the rumble of thunder, a spray of salty mist, and distant laughter ripped from the mouths of drunkards. Something stirred in her gut. Cade couldn't help a smile. She could nearly taste the cold froth of beer on her tongue.
Her mud-spattered boots creaked the floorboards on entry. The cloud of tobacco smoke in the air diffused light from the lanterns over the bar's patrons. No one seemed bothered by her presence; rather, the appearance of a stranger excited them more. Somebody put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and let loose a deafening whistle. Cade raised her middle finger to a chorus of raucous laughter.
She was more familiar with farmers and hunters than with fishers and sailors, but at the end of the day, they were all the same kind of ornery. Didn't matter how unpleasant, they felt more like home to Cade than any cleanshaven, smooth-talkin' suit. At least here she knew what she was in for.
"Must be my lucky night," the bartender joked.
"You wish," Cade replied. "I need something light an' cold."
"You got it, boss."
Behind her, a coy, giggling young lady just on the cusp of adulthood struck the center of a dartboard. Her friends dissolved into chaos, either whooping in excitement or loudly insisting she'd cheated. A group of old men played cards in the corner. A woman with short wind-tossed hair told fortunes by a fireplace. Cade watched the woman's thin fingers and long, immaculate nails sweep over a jumble of cast runes, as if feeling the air above them.
"Who's that?" Cade asked when the bartender returned with a mug of golden ale.
"Oh, Sissel?" He shot a glance towards the fortune-teller. "Earnin' her keep while she stays here on shore leave."
"Really? She from around here?"
"Nobody's from around here, boss, 'cept those geezers at the market. She's more at home on the water than land — best damn navigator in the Maelstrom."
Cade took a drink and savored it. After a long walk under the high sun, a cold ale was just what she needed. "Those geezers at the market seem pretty paranoid about this place. You don't give 'em too much trouble?"
"Is that why you're here?" The bartender shot a look over his shoulder as he moved to collect an empty glass. "Looking for trouble?"
"Always." She tapped her nails against the glass mug with a smile.
A pack of regulars rolled in through the front door, and the bartender became embroiled in a loud game of banter as he poured their usuals. With a sigh, Cade slid off her bar stool and carried her beer over by the fireplace.
The fortune-teller — Sissel — was in the middle of tracing her finger down some sweating 20-something's palm. Cade nearly laughed aloud as the boy blushed beet-red. After the reading, the young man paid up and stumbled off.
After taking a moment to count her coins, Sissel said, "Are you interested in a reading?"
"I think that one was interested in a lot more than a reading," Cade replied with a lopsided smile. "No offense, of course. I respect it."
Up close, Cade could sense something ethereal about Sissel. Her nose and cheeks had burned out on the water but faded to an uneven tan, and her chin-length dark hair was tucked behind both ears. She wore an oversized, weathered long jacket over a pink gossamer dress and slouching leather boots. When she turned to make eye contact, Cade saw one of her eyes was brown, the other a striking violet the color of clouds at dusk.
Hag blood, Cade noted.
"You think I'm scamming people," Sissel observed flatly, quirking one eyebrow.
"I think that's none of my business. I actually have some questions about your other job, if you're free."
They stared each other down for a moment. Cade could feel herself being scanned, and she wondered if Sissel took note of the unblemished porcelain of her skin and the webs of visible blue veins underneath. She kept her mouth closed.
Sissel's eyes lifted and made contact with Cade's. "Who hired you?"
She started. "Excuse me?"
"You're here to investigate the recent thefts down at the docks, right?"
Pursing her lips, Cade pulled out a chair and sat down. She glanced behind her before she started to speak in a low tone. "Why, you got somethin' to do with it?"
Sissel smiled and lifted a glass of wine to her lips. "There is something you should know about the Maelstrom. The people in charge, they want you to think they've had control of these waters since that invasion in the Bay."
Though Cade grew up on the other side of the country, she remembered the story. Everyone did. She'd been somewhere around nine or ten at the time. Travelers brought tales of the most feared sky pirate fleet in the Maelstrom collapsing under the weight of their own hubris. Some said the conflict was instigated by the port city's local organized crime ring; others claimed the divine intervention of a celestial brought the pirates to their knees. Still others claimed the efforts of a heroic few allowed the locals to avoid the tragedy of war.
Afterwards, the king announced the pirates had been punished for their reign of terror. The Maelstrom's skies would more thoroughly regulated. They promised the dawn of an era of peace. And Cade hadn't thought much of it in the twenty-some years since.
"You're saying there's still piracy?"
"Of course. As long as there's trade in the Maelstrom…" She let her words drift off the end of her sentence, disappearing into implication.
Cade sat back and took another contemplative drink of her ale.
"So, if that's never stopped," she began, "why have these thefts just started? What changed?"
"Copycats."
Another dart hit center. Another cacophony of jeers and hollers. Somewhere, a frustrated patron threw his playing cards across the table.
"Oh?"
"You don't steal from other ships at the same haven. That's poor form. Draws too much unwanted attention and puts everybody in danger of getting caught. Either it's safe for all of us or none of us."
Cade couldn't help but notice Sissel's usage of "us" instead of "them."
She grinned. "I see what you're saying. Whoever's doing this doesn't know the way things are done."
"Probably just some kids testing the waters," Sissel agreed with a nod.
The bartender stepped from behind the counter to stop a fight from breaking out at the card table. In the confusion, one of the dart players walked up to the board to stick all five of his darts dead center. The others were either too drunk to notice or too drunk to care anymore.
Setting her empty mug on the table with a thunk, Cade offered, "Maybe we could help each other?"
—
Cade found Trildy at the docks the next morning and called a greeting to him as she approached. The sunrise broke blood-red over the horizon, staining a line of clouds.
As soon as she was in comfortable earshot, Trildy said, "Not too rowdy at the Tide Pool, I hope?"
"All bark and no bite." Cade stood with her hands on her hips. "I think I found a lead, though. I'll get these would-be pirates outta your hair in no time."
"That's good to hear."
After an exchange of pleasantries, Trildy untied his boat and set off for deeper waters. Cade watched ripples curl out from the bow, each cresting wave mirroring the morning's rose-gold light.
After the fishmongers had left for the morning, Cade found Sissel perched inside a rowboat to the far northern side of the docks.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
Cade hopped in with a smile. "Let's get this show on the road."
The previous evening's dealings had given way to an agreement: Cade wouldn't tell the old folks they had a bigger piracy problem than previously thought, and in exchange, she'd help Sissel get rid of the wannabes drawing attention to them.
"I have a suspicion I know where they got the idea," Sissel told her the night before.
"Oh, yeah?" Cade prompted.
Sissel guided the rowboat around the bend of a grass hill in the middle of the estuary. There it was, just as she'd described — the wreckage of a small airship pulled from the water and left to dry. Muck had been cleaned off its hull and broken windows.
"That wreck's been here for ages," Sissel said.
"You think these kids found an old sky pirate vessel and think they're bringing back the old ways?"
"Did they tell you what kind of cargo's gone missing?"
The gentle current of the wetlands pushed them downstream towards the sea; Sissel gave the oars a few decisive strokes to keep them in place. A heron rowed his long, thin legs through the reeds nearby.
"No," Cade replied.
Sissel nodded her head towards the airship. "Spare parts."
With a snort, Cade told her, "Sounds like the problem will solve itself in time. You can't even fly one of these without magic."
"That's what I'm worried about. Do you know about the magic sickness?"
Right after the invasion, the kids on the west coast of Bellosca started being born wrong. Not all of them, but enough. Some simply died young, unable to handle the power coursing through their veins. Some had visions. Others had wild, uncontrollable magic. Some came into their power later, tainted by plane-touched land along the sea. The royal family refused to acknowledge its existence in public or explain where it came from.
"You think one of these kids got the magic?"
Sissel opened her mouth to reply, but then, both of them heard a distant shout. Exchanging a look, they rowed themselves around the back of the hill, where Sissel beached their boat in a shallow spot amidst a cluster of reeds.
Cade watched between the reeds as two more rowboats arrived, one with two passengers and another with three. They pulled their vessels onto the grass hill. Sure enough, a gaggle of young men with patchy facial hair and round faces stumbled out of their boats.
"It looks so good!" One of them cried, tripping as he stumbled onto dry land.
"Don't get too excited," another said. "I'm not even close to done."
A third spoke in a false, boisterous voice meant to sound low and authoritative. "How soon can it be done?"
"Well, Peltin — I mean, cap'n— I'm honestly starting to get a little nervous about how much we're stealing lately. I mean, they might catch onto us—"
"Nonsense!"
Cade shot Sissel an amused look. Sissel looked less amused and more exasperated.
Another voice spoke up. "Look, Gerric, Peltin's right. He's never led us wrong. There's no way they know it's us."
Yet another sighed. "Gerric just said he's uncomfortable, man. He's the one building this ship for you."
"Restoring," corrected the voice on Peltin's side. "I found the wreck. Gerric's just putting it back together."
"All I'm saying is if none of you are helping, maybe you should cut him some slack."
The first one to speak up chimed in, "We all contribute in our own ways!"
As she listened, Cade pieced together the dynamic between the would-be "crew" members. There was Peltin, the self-proclaimed captain, who wasn't bright but certainly thought he was. His first mate, Gerric, was the brains of the operation. She didn't catch the names of the other three, but one appeared to be Gerric's friend that wasn't sure about getting roped into the whole operation, and another couldn't stop himself from sucking up to Peltin. The last was just thrilled to be included.
The crew didn't linger for long. They were concerned about getting back home before the fishmongers started coming back. Despite his hangups, Gerric promised to get more work done on the airship that evening.
Sissel and Cade waited for the two rowboats to disappear from view before starting to row back themselves.
Cade snickered. "Seems like you were right. Just a bunch of goofy kids."
"I feel bad for them," Sissel said.
"Why?"
"If they continue down this road, they could put themselves in harm's way. They are making enemies of many dangerous people."
"Sounds like we need to scare 'em off, then," Cade concluded.
Lost in thought, Sissel mulled over the idea before responding. "I believe I've seen them at the Tide Pool before. If one of them is coming back here to work on the ship, they may stop by."
"It's a date, then."
The Tide Pool was just as unruly that evening as the last. A warm, balmy wind off the sea coaxed some patrons outside, and Sissel and Cade entered the tavern amidst a crowd of smokers laughing on the porch. The bartender threw the windows open, and the old, yellowed lace curtains flapped in the breeze.
"Back for more, ladies?" A man with a gray beard and a pierced ear slurred.
Cade flipped him off again.
For the first hour after sundown, not much happened. The two women ordered drinks and situated themselves at Sissel's usual table by the hearth. While Sissel indulged those who approached her for readings, Cade kept an eye on the door.
Just as she began to wonder if they'd ever show up, they appeared.
"Captain" Peltin and his three nameless underlings strode through the door. Though they held their heads high, Cade sensed an undercurrent of insecurity beneath their confident strut. Their bravado lacked the kind of ease that came with experience. She wondered how long they'd spent picking out their outfits.
"Get a load of these guys," Cade commented in a conspiratorial stage whisper. Sissel, in the middle of flipping over a card for a client, permitted herself a small smile.
While Sissel finished her reading, Cade sauntered up to the bar for a second beer. She slapped a few extra coins on the countertop.
"Go ahead and cover a round for these young bucks, too," she said.
One of the men, skinny but tall and mottled with freckles, gaped and squawked, "Th-thanks, ma'am!" She recognized the boundless enthusiasm in his voice; he was just happy to be there.
Peltin slapped him in the back of the head. "Idiot. You're supposed to say it like this." He thumbed his belt loops, rocked on his heels, and spoke in that low fake bluster, "That's kind of you, Miss. Name's Peltin."
She swallowed a derisive eyeroll and smiled instead.
The bartender looked to the young men, then back to Cade with a questioning but playful look. She could hear the thought beneath his raised eyebrow: "I know you're up to something, but it's funny, so I'll let it slide." He set a second mug of beer in front of Cade and wandered off to fetch glasses for each of the young men.
One of them hovered in the back, quiet. Cade recognized his short-cropped hair and dour features — Gerric's friend who seemed hesitant about the whole piracy thing. The last one, a blonde kid with an obvious sunburn, orbited around Peltin as if he was the sun.
"I just got to town last night," Cade said to Peltin. "What's a bunch of nice young men like yourselves doing in a spot like this?"
"Ahh, you know. Waiting on a friend," Peltin said mysteriously, in the way where he wanted her to ask more.
"Oh, yeah? There's more of you?"
"Just Gerric," the blonde one said with a frown.
Cade noticed Sissel making eye contact with her across the room. Her client had left, and she now sat at the table alone, shuffling her divination deck.
"Well, if y'all want, my friend over here is doing readings. Could get one while you wait," Cade said. "See if you're destined for greatness."
This grabbed Peltin's attention. He stood ramrod straight, eyes alight, and stroked his chin as if there was any hair on it.
"Oh, c'mon, Pel," the blonde said. "You know that's just a scam."
"I'll cover it. How about that?" Cade offered.
Eyebrows raised, Peltin and the freckled one gave each other an excited look. They sauntered over to Sissel's table as coolly as possible. The dour one took his beer and sat somewhere with a clear view of the door, leaving Cade alone with the blonde kid at the bar.
She asked, "Not interested?"
"Nah," he said.
"You and Peltin close?"
At that, he cleared his throat, lowered his brow, and took on a serious tone. "Oh, yes, we go way, way back. I'm one of his most trusted friends."
She pushed his beer closer to him and patted the stool next to her.
The blonde's name was L'rall. After a full beer, Cade talked him into a shot of some nutty dark-brown liqueur, and the burn of alcohol down his throat loosed his lips. Gerric was working on restoring a "historical artifact," L'rall said, but L'rall had been the one to find it in the first place.
"I was the one in the estuary that day when the tide was low," he told her, jabbing his finger into the countertop for emphasis. "I was the one who told Peltin about it. But I feel bad bringing that up when Gerric is the one working on it."
"He wouldn't be working on it if you hadn't found it in the first place!" Cade pointed out with a cheeky lilt.
"I guess that's true. But nobody seems to think of that except me!"
While L'rall ranted, Cade made all the right affirmative noises, brow creased in exaggerated concern and sympathy. "They don't appreciate you. You should stand up for yourself."
"You're right." He thumped his fist on the countertop. "I should. I deserve it."
At that moment, the door to the bar swung open. Taking off a grimy pair of work gloves and shoving them in his pocket, Gerric swept an appraising look over the patrons. His dour friend lit up at his appearance and raised one hand in greeting.
"You!" L'rall shouted.
Gerric stopped short. "Hey, L'rall, what's—"
L'rall stepped forward and swung a right hook directly into Gerric's face. Gerric's hand flew to his nose. He stumbled back and collapsed to the floor in shock.
"Hey!" Gerric's friend shouted. He shot out of his seat to leap on L'rall's back.
Cade's face crumpled into amused disbelief, but she managed to stifle it by clapping one hand over her mouth.
Looking up from his reading, Peltin realized the bar brawlers were his friends. With a shout, he and the freckled crew member stumbled out of their chairs and into the fray. Sissel, wide-eyed, exchanged a look with her partner in crime from across the room.
The bartender shifted all his weight into one leg as he stared down at Cade. "What did you do?"
Unable to restrain herself anymore, Cade's laughter burst from her mouth in a painful, guttural squawk.
Peltin managed to pull his friends apart. "What on earth is going on here?"
"You," L'rall jabbed one finger into Peltin's chest, "don't appreciate me. You made Gerric your first mate but I should be your first mate—"
In an incredulous rage, Gerric's friend burst, "For what? Gerric does everything for you guys and you all—" He made a sweeping gesture, "strut around like you're the ones who do all the work—"
The freckled one whined, "Guys, let's stop fighting! The nice lady said we were gonna be successful!"
"What?" Gerric leaned against his friend, wiping blood from his nose. "What the hell are you guys talking about? What's going on?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Gerric's friend said, sarcastically, "Let's listen to the witch charging for fortunes in the corner of the rundown shack at the edge of town!"
L'rall continued, "Don't change the subject. What do you even do, huh? All you do is hang around Gerric. If you're not serious about this, why don't you leave?"
"Fine, maybe I will!"
"No one's leaving!" Peltin yelled.
"I am!" L'rall yelled back. He slapped Peltin's beer glass onto the floor. "You haven't given me any credit since the day we started this mess!"
"I'm adding that to your tab," the bartender called.
Gerric steadied himself on a nearby chair and rose to his feet. "Fuck's sake, L'rall, you're acting like a scorned fishwife."
"Easy for you to say when you're the other woman!"
Hands thrown into the air, Gerric's voice pitched to an incredulous falsetto. "What are you even talking about!"
"This is crazy," Gerric's friend said. "I told you I wasn't sure I wanted anything to do with this, and now I know. I'm gone."
"Yed, c'mon, don't—" The door slammed behind him. Gerric let his hands fall to his thighs with a resounding clap. He gestured to L'rall. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you drunk?"
L'rall, head held high, pushed past him and out the door.
Gerric stared after him, then turned back to Peltin and the freckled man. "Guys, hey, I'm sorry, I— I gotta go after Yed. Don't wait up, okay?"
The two remaining members stood by the door, hands on their hips. Peltin looked stunned. The rest of the bar patrons turned back to their drinks and continued their activities, with the evening's entertainment concluded.
Peltin glanced over to the countertop. All the bar stools were empty. Two empty mugs and two empty shot glasses sat where L'rall and Cade once spoke. No sign of the woman who'd started this.
"Shit," he said, and turned to leave as well.
—
Cade considered herself lucky. Since most bad weather broke up long before it reached Urdenza, the airship hadn't gotten rained on in months. The whole thing caught fire easily.
She stepped back as the flame grew in strength, leaping from a few wayward sparks to an all-consuming hunger. A pillar of smoke lofted into the air, and the fire below lit the underside of the dark clouds red-orange. Cade's nocturnal eyes flashed in the warm glow.
"Hey!"
Peltin rowed himself towards the airship as quickly as he could. His breath came out in ragged pants; the rapid thump of his heartbeat thrummed in his ears. He saw the fire and the woman and felt his face go hot with rage. All that work, all that patience, gone.
When he drew close enough to see the shine in her eyes and the red-orange light flickering shadows across her face, his fury collapsed into fear.
Cade stepped to the side and disappeared into the black water with a small plunk.
The erratic slapping of oars through water betrayed Peltin's panic. Before he could move away, long, pointed nails closed over the rim of his rowboat. Shrill screams scraped his throat raw as Cade hoisted herself over the edge and climbed inside.
In a fit of desperation, he summoned a warmth from within. Light burned in the palms of his hands, but weakly fizzled when she grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the bottom of the boat. Rearing her head back, Cade opened her mouth and plunged her long, sharp canines into the soft flesh of his throat.
Kicking her legs at the edge of the docks, hands in her lap, Sissel waited. The endless dark water of the sea lapped at her feet. Far away, a towering dark cloud illuminated from within and growled with thunder. The sound of oars moving through water claimed her attention, and Sissel bent to catch the rope as Cade coasted Peltin's vessel next to the dock. She hoisted him out of the bottom of the boat.
"Is he dead?" Sissel asked.
"No," Cade replied. She used the back of her hand to wipe blood from the sides of her mouth. "He'll feel like shit for a day or two, but he's just unconscious. Put a bottle in his hand and lay 'im on the beach and everybody will think he's just hungover."
They made their way back to shore. The weathered wooden planks on the docks creaked under their feet. Sissel held her boots in one hand.
After a beat, Sissel said, matter-of-fact, "You're a dhampir."
Cade laid Peltin out in the sand and pulled a flask from her pocket.
"Yeah," she said.
"I'm sure you've noticed the mark of the hag on me."
Cade smiled to herself. She leaned her head back to swallow the last mouthful of warm swill from the flask and tossed it next to Peltin's unconscious form.
"Two daughters of somethin' awful," she mused.
A forked arc of lightning crackled across the faraway storm. The two of them stood side by side and admired their handiwork — just some drunk youngster having a rough night after getting ditched by his friends.
"You were right, by the way," Cade said. "He tried to use magic on me."
Sissel sounded amused. "Oh?"
"Yeah, but it's obvious he hardly ever uses it, certainly not in a fight. It crapped out the second he got scared."
"Poor kid."
Cade sniffed. "Now he knows better than to try that shit again."
The two of them didn't have much to say after that. Both sea and town grew black as pitch as the local folk blew out the candles lighting their windows.
The next morning, Cade showed up to the docks, prepared to spin some story to the fishmongers about the pirate crew drowning after she set their ship ablaze. However, Trildy already had the community's pooled gold reward ready for her. The sack clinked as he set it in her hands.
"I haven't even told you what happened yet," she said.
"Don't have to," Trildy replied. "I guess Hess's son Yed sussed out what you did at the bar last night, an' he an' his friend Gerric came by to turn themselves in."
Cade's lips curved into a smile.
"Don't be too hard on 'em," she said. "I think these kids are just bored, if you don't mind my saying so, sir."
Trildy scoffed that derisive laugh. "We'll be puttin' those boys to work after this. They need to be makin' something of themselves."
A sound like a burst of wind caught their attention. Cade and the fishmongers tilted their heads back and looked to the sky. Weaving above a patch of low-lying clouds, an airship passed overhead on its way to busier harbors.
Cade felt her stomach drop. Thanking Trildy and the others for their business, she excused herself. The coin purse jangled off her belt as she half-walk, half-jogged her way through town. The cobblestone streets disappeared into a muddy footpath through wet grass, and Cade picked her way back to the Tide Pool.
The tavern was empty. She wasn't even sure it was open for the day yet. The bartender had flipped the chairs upside-down onto the tables so he could mop.
"Is Sissel around?" Cade asked.
"Just missed her," he said without looking up from his task. "She paid out at sunrise."
Cade frowned. It was rare to find somebody else half something fearsome. She'd hoped to talk a little more, now that she had the time. Instead, Sissel hadn't even spared a good-bye.
Perhaps for the best, Cade thought. Maybe she shouldn't be cavorting with an actual pirate.
"Hey," said the bartender.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"That kid never paid for the glass he broke last night."
Cade rolled her eyes. With a laugh, she flipped a whole silver coin into the tip jar and turned to leave.