It’s nearly midday by the time the Nameless sails into the port of Aparo. Mal has been alone on deck since he took the watch from Gunny, and nothing eventful has happened so far. However, they’ve now reached the point in the day where Mal will have to prove to yet another port official that he is, in fact, allowed to captain his own ship.
Mal leans over in the direction of the speaking tube that allows him to send his voice directly into his own cabin. Gunny won’t be inside, of course, but if he makes himself loud enough she’ll get the picture. “Gunny!” he shouts, cupping his hands around the mouth of the pipe to block out the wind. “Bring me the shipping manifest!”
That order of business settled, Mal turns to survey the port. Aparo is a thriving mid-sized island, and their port facilities are just as busy as you might expect. One of the unique features of Aparo’s port, the multi-tiered docks made possible by the Aparo Institute of Research, only serves to make the scene more complicated to follow than a standard Pierson port. Instead of a single raised walkway with smaller jetties branching out at regular intervals, the Aparo docks are a maze of scaffolding and tie-downs in the oddest of places. Only on Aparo, with so many tinkerers skilled at making the impossible an everyday reality, could such a mad creation have lasted.
“Here are your papers,” interrupts a voice, and Mal turns to find a woman offering his shipping manifest. But it’s not Gunny, it’s Alice, who must have been in his cabin when he just shouted into it. Certainly Mal has seen very little of her since they left Huana, but that’s not exactly surprising when he gave her a private cabin to hole herself up in. After Mal takes the papers from her, she walks towards the rail to get a better look at the port. “Is this Aparo?”
“Yes. We’re sailing for that harbormaster’s station there,” Mal explains, pointing to the platform standing unusually clear of scaffolding. “Then they’ll give us a slip, and we can go about our business.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“First of all, we need more water.”
“Didn’t you get any when we were just in Huana?”
“Of course I did.”
“Then what’s the wrong with it?”
Mal takes a slow breath, trying to keep from snapping at his customer. This is why we don’t take passengers, he thinks. Aloud he says, “We’ll need more. We don’t carry much more a few days’ worth at a time.”
Alice frowns. “Why not?”
“It’s heavy,” he says matter-of-factly. “Anyway, before the harbormaster gets here, you might want to go back to the cabin. That shipping manifest doesn’t list a passenger, so if you stick around up here you’ll have to properly act like crew. Which means not standing around and just watching the conversation.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m better at eavesdropping than that,” she declares with a smirk. “But I’ll leave you privacy for your clandestine dealings with the harbormaster. Shout if you need anything — except, maybe a little less deafening next time?”
“Sorry,” Mal says with a sheepish grin. Alice just laughs, which thankfully settles the matter as she willingly disappears a moment later. Then, all that’s left is waiting for the harbormaster to send a representative to the Nameless.
Unfortunately, from the instant the man places his boots on the deck, Mal knows that he’s going to make the process more painful than necessary. First the man makes a show of looking around the deck for someone who isn’t an elf, and then his first few sentences to Mal are painfully well-articulated. When Mal announces himself as the captain, it throws a wrench into the works. However, the inspector quickly falls back on the old favorite of Aparo, and transforms himself back into an officious bureaucrat who insists on checking every single thing not once but thrice. It’s slow and methodical, noticeably slowing down the process, but Mal’s attitude never wavers from polite attentiveness.
Twenty minutes later, as the inspector is wrapping up his third time through everything, someone climbs out onto the upper deck. Mal’s back is turned, but he has a good idea of who’s just come out, and sure enough, he notices the inspector’s eyes go wide as the older man sees the figure who has recently emerged.
“Mal?” Alice asks. “Is everything alright?”
There’s something in her tone that makes Mal think of Pierson officers, and he finds himself turning back to face her. The woman who stands on his deck now cuts a much more imposing figure than she did when delivering his papers. It’s helped, of course, by the subtle holster on her hip, and the veiled air of command in her question. Mal is taken aback, and he stares just a moment too long.
Where were you ten minutes ago? he wonders, when the gears of his brain catch once more. However, the harbormaster springs into action, sending the Nameless on her way to her slip so fast Mal’s head is spinning. It’s not until Alice makes an idle comment as Mal steers that he realizes why.
“It’s always a shame to see people who still think that humans are better than elves.”
Mal bristles. Really? Sailing into an imperial port, and you’re proclaiming how bad it is to be an elf? Makes one wonder if it’s really the Company you’re hiding from…
He doesn’t say much of anything in response. He grunts a little, but he’s too focused on his work to say anything aloud.
“I mean, it’s a shame people believe such a thing when it’s so patently untrue. Look at you, for instance.”
“Gunny!” Mal shouts. After an instant, she comes just high enough up the ladder to stick her head out where she can see Mal standing on the aft deck.
“Yeah?”
“Come tie her up, we’ve got a slip.”
“Gimme a mo,” she says, and disappears. Before she reappears, Mal finally responds to Alice’s rant.
“I’m not an elf,” he says.
Alice stares at him blankly, clearly more thrown off by his summoning Gunny than the rest of the conversation. “But you — you’ve got the ears. And the… build, and what you’re wearing… I mean, sorry for assuming, but you really look it.”
“Just half elf,” he says. Gunny appears on deck a moment later, but he doesn’t need to tell her anything — she knows to go to the bow and secure the ropes as soon as they’re close enough for her to make the jump to the dock. “The other half’s human.”
Alice eyes him sidelong, sizing him up. “Now is this a top half/bottom half situation? Or—”
“We’re moored!” Gunny shouts. Mal releases his hold of the wheel and practically leaps off the raised portion of the deck. In two strides he’s above the hatch.
“Den! We’re docked, we’re getting supplies!”
He doesn’t get a response. He wasn’t really expecting one, and there’s a fair chance Den is asleep at the moment. If that’s the case, there’s no way in hell he’ll get up for one of Mal’s half-hearted shouts.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
Mal looks at Alice. For the first time she seems actually unsure, and he wonders how long it’ll last. He would have quickly said no, if she still looked like the misplaced merchant’s daughter that appeared in his hold yesterday. But today she’s playing a different role. The pistol on her hip, for instance, does wonders to change her appearance.
“Can you shoot that?” he asks, nodding towards the holster.
“Not well,” she admits. “But it’s better than nothing. Mostly having it is enough insurance.”
Mal nods absently. “You can come with us. But no funny business and no talking to anyone. If you really are hiding from the Company…”
“I’m not.”
Mal’s only response is to raise his eyebrows. He knows it twists his scar in alarming ways, but Alice doesn’t react nearly as much as most people do the first time they see it.
“I’m running from their spy master. And before those eyebrows of yours leap off your face, no, I’m not telling you why. We going or what?”
Mal grins. Then, still looking straight at Alice, he shouts over his shoulder. “Hey, Gunny, need a hand with the carrying? I’ve got just the girl in mind…”
Alice groans.
----------------------------------------
Once they get to ground level, Mal and Gunny spend all their attention arguing about whether they should bring foodstuffs or cloth. Alice is not paying nearly enough attention to the conversation to know who is supporting which side, as this is her first time in Aparo. The sprawling splendor is more than enough to keep her mind busy. The shops are crammed in tight, sometimes two in a building, and the streets are no better. They’re clogged with people and even the occasional carriage fighting its way through. All in all, it’s quite hectic, and it’s about all she can do to keep following Mal and Gunny and not get distracted. Everywhere she turns she sees something new for sale, in every fashion from island to continental and plenty of things in between.
What captures Alice’s attention most, however, is all of the gadgets and gizmos around. On this corner there’s a man selling spyglasses which magnify distant pictures to life size; on that corner there’s a woman trying to get passers-by interested in a machine that will easily peel a banana when properly wound. It’s maddening, the variety of crazy things that can be seen or bought here and this isn’t even counting the storefronts, where there are all sorts of baubles to be seen.
Alice turns to avoid getting run over by a fishmonger’s cart that’s driving itself through the marketplace, the angry fishmonger chasing after it and shouting at the steam-powered machine. Alice chuckles to herself and turns towards the alleyway that Gunny and Mal just turned down.
But they aren’t there.
Shit, she thinks. Alright, Alice, the most helpful thing you can do is get back to the ship… which way was that, again?
“Alice!”
She slowly turns towards whoever called her name. If it’s not someone she wants to see here, she’ll only have an instant before she has to run. She’ll turn around and just go, and—
It’s Mal. “Try not to lose track of us, alright? We don’t have time to come back to pick up strays.”
“Right,” she says. “Sorry. Got distracted.”
“So, are you coming? I can give you directions back to the ship if you’d like.”
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
This sets her in motion. “No, no, that’s alright,” she says. “I’ve just never been to a market quite like this one. Not used to seeing so many… contraptions, all over the place.”
Mal looks around them. It’s true that there’s more steam-powered and clockwork machines here than any other port he’s been to — perhaps that’s one of the reasons why he’s always liked refueling here, even if the city isn’t the friendliest to elves. There’s certainly something fun about being able to buy more gadgets than you could ever possibly need and which may not work any better than just doing things by hand.
But for now he can feel Gunny glaring daggers into the back of his head, and so he tries not to dwell too long on the wonderful creations around them. “So, what’ll it be? Directions or are you coming with?”
“I’ll follow,” Alice says quickly. “Sorry. Let’s go.”
So Mal turns and leads the way. They meet back up with Gunny in a moment and she takes the lead. Clearly, the argument about cargo has been won, in a way that makes neither party particularly happy. Ah, compromise.
“So you ever been to Aparo?” Mal asks as they’re walking. Gunny snorts in wry amusement, but she doesn’t turn around — she’s seen this show before. Although, if she’s getting off at Tuanaki, Gunny muses privately, this might be shorter than most…
“Never been to Aparo,” Alice says to Mal. “Never been to Tuanaki, either, but there’s a first time for everything, right?”
Mal glances at her, trying to read in her expression something that explains her reasoning for hiring a ship to a distant outpost like Tuanaki — and probably the only one it’ll see this season. “And what’s waiting for you in Tuanaki? A more appropriately aged husband, perhaps?”
Alice rolls her eyes. Then she glances at Mal. “I’m looking for my father,” she says carefully.
“And he’s on Tuanaki?”
Alice shrugs. “He might be. I don’t really know. But I do know that my last chance of finding him is there.”
“Well, don’t worry, we’ll get you there soon enough.”
“That’s alright,” Alice says. “I have time. No need to be hasty on my account.”
Mal gives her a strange look. “You hired the fastest ship on the docks to get to Tuanaki.”
“I hired the fastest ship to get me out of Huana,” she says quickly. “Just ’cause I’m really running from Piers and not the Company—”
Mal interrupts her with a particularly eloquent look. “How exactly can you be both running from the Piers & Son Co. and not running from them at the same time?”
“No, no, not—” Alice sighs. “You know that urban legend that all the first sons of first sons of the original Piers are all named Piers?”
Mal laughs. “Everyone’s heard that,” he says. “But who would be stupid enough to—”
“It’s not urban legend,” Alice says darkly. Mal gives her a funny look, because her emotion seems out of place for something as inconsequential as urban legend. “They’re all called Piers. And while the Company wouldn’t mind jailing me for all the things I’ve lifted over the years, there’s a Piers that would, quite literally, kill me, if we crossed paths again.”
“That seems a bit much for an agent of the Company,” Mal says idly.
“Well, alright, maybe it’s a bit of an exaggeration,” she says, a grin slowly forming on her face. “But he would not be happy to see me, and I think the only person unhappier if that encounter were to occur would be me. So let’s avoid it, shall we?”
“Look, I’m just trying to make a living. Normally it involves cargo that can’t talk back… so you’ll forgive me for finding a particular interest in the cargo that can.”
“I’m no cargo,” Alice says. “Illicit, perhaps. Dangerous? Definitely. But cargo? No, I’m not cargo. I’m a human being, and it’d do you good to remember that.”
“Oh, you’re perfectly human. You’re very clearly a human child.”
Alice smacks him on the shoulder. “Hey!”
Mal acts far more affronted and hurt at this gesture than he really is, but Alice doesn’t even begin to fall for it. “What could I possibly have done wrong in calling you human!”
“It wasn’t the human part, and you know it,” Alice says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being a boring adult and maybe I’ll go back to flirting with you.”
Now it’s Mal’s turn to be affronted. “Hey!” he exclaims indignantly. “We both know that if there’s any flirting going on, it’s me flirting with you, not the other way around.”
“Excuse me! Who’s to say that both couldn’t be going on?”
“No respectable woman would flirt with an elf seriously.”
“Well then, what a good thing I ain’t respectable,” Alice says. “Come on, Mal, dancing is so much more fun than arguing about it.”
“I don’t know,” Mal says, grinning slowly. “I’m kind of enjoying the argument, too.”
A smile creeps across Alice’s face. The witty retort is still forming in her mind when Gunny interrupts them.
“We’re here,” she announces. “Save the flirting for later, hmm? We’ve got work to do now.”
Alice salutes her. “Yes, ma’am!” Gunny rolls her eyes at it, but she’s smiling. She reminds Gunny of a certain girl she knew a decade ago, optimistic about the prospect of going to reclaim the islands’ cities for civilized folk. Plenty of things have changed since then — Gunny’s not sure she’d sign up to fight for the empire, this time around, but she’s ready to fight if it comes to her.
“After you, Gunny,” Mal says, stopped beside Alice. Gunny glances between them.
“No funny stuff, right?”
“I’m just here to watch,” Alice says mildly. Gunny looks pointedly at Mal, who throws up his hands in a defensive stance.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” he says. “I’m looking to find a cargo, same as you. Of course, we could make only one stop and then—”
“Come on,” Gunny says, turning on her heel. Then she turns and ducks into a well-kept shop, full of fine muslin and well-made oilskins and all the notions a sewing project could need. Gunny immediately makes a beeline for the register, and practically accosts the merchant on the subject of cloth. The good news is that the merchant seems to be expecting this treatment, and responds in kind.
Mal and Alice hang back in the entrance. Mal gives her a sidelong glance. “Don’t all girls get all hot and bothered about the prospect of buying a new dress?”
Alice glares at him. “First, you’ll notice that these are not, in fact, completed articles of clothing. These are just the raw materials. And while I could turn them into something worth wearing, why would I, when I could go down the road and buy a ready-made dress instead?”
“Hey, I’m not the one who’s forsaking her given role in society.”
Alice makes a face, complete with sticking her tongue out and fake puking. “Me? A housewife? Are you kidding? First, it would make Piers happy, so I could never. And even if it didn’t, what would I be then, who would I be? Just someone’s wife?”
“Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything,” he says. He looks for something to distract himself with — the closest thing he can see that might be worth taking a look at is the buttons, which are arranged in trays divided into tiny sections. There is no more than a fistful in each section. While Mal is figuring out how to work it so that they can inspect all of the buttons available for purchase, he continues his earlier thought. “Frankly, I’m just wondering why Gunny of all people knows more about this stuff than you do. You’re a girl.”
Alice looks up from the buttons for a moment to catch Mal’s eye, but his attention is lost in trying to figure out the piece of machinery that should be straightforward. Alice sighs, reaches around and over his arm, and rotates the handle that Mal was trying to use as a lever.
“I’m pretty sure Gunny’s a girl, too,” she says.
Mal makes an extremely mature face at her, and she rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, she’s female, if that’s what you’re asking. But she’s not — a girl. You know, little.”
“I am not little!” Alice says indignantly. She comes just short of stomping her foot on the ground petulantly before realizing that that will not help her case any. So instead she goes on with her argument. “I happen to be the one with enough gold to charter your ship. So forgive me for finding that a little demeaning.”
Mal mutters something indistinct but just loud enough that Alice is sure she won’t like whatever it is he’s said. Which only means she has to know what it was.
“What?”
Mal sighs, like he doesn’t want to say — but he also know she’s come too close to actually saying it to back out now. “At least I’ve earned my money through respectable work. What’d you do, earn it the old fashioned way?”
Alice turns pink — and then her face contorts into sudden fury. “What?”
Mal repeats himself. It doesn’t help. Alice only seems to get even closer to exploding, and then Gunny approaches, the merchant in toe. Alice storms off before they can approach.
“Time to pay,” Gunny says. “What’d you say to her?”
Mal tells her. Gunny smacks the back of his head, hard. “Hey! What was that for?”
“What the hell were you thinking?” she demands. “Why couldn’t you have just called her a whore and gotten it over with? At least then you could have said you were joking when she didn’t respond well.”
“What are you talking about?” Mal asks. “All I wanted to know was whether she’d stolen the money she paid us with. Not that I necessarily minded, but—”
Gunny smacks him again. “Who’d you learn your Common from, Den?”
“Hey, I’m not that bad! Just cause I learned Elvish first—”
“Argue later. Money now.”
Mal sighs and reaches for his purse. But when he reaches for it, he finds the pocket in question empty. This sparks some colorful cursing, none of which Gunny needs translated, although at least half of it isn’t in Common.
“She took your purse, didn’t she?”
Mal doesn’t even answer, he just sighs. “I’ll go track her down.”
“No, definitely not you. She’s playing you for a fool and knows it. Wait here, and I’ll come back with the purse.”
“I’m not holding any merchandise without payment,” the merchant says. Gunny sighs, glares at Mal, and then fishes out her own purse. “Take this, as a first payment. And don’t sell those uncut oilskins to the next person who comes in, you hear? I’ll be back for them. Mal, make sure he does as I’ve bid.”
“Right,” Mal mutters. “That’s right, Captain, stay behind and watch over the cargo that isn’t even ours yet. Don’t go out doing captainly things like actually acquiring the rest of the cargo we’re shipping. No need for you to be productive while Gunny’s out saving the day…”
Mal continues to mutter to himself under his breath, but Gunny is long gone, and he’s back to doing nothing but rifling through buttons and resigning himself to keeping an eye on the door for when Gunny returns.
----------------------------------------
Once Alice is out of sight of the cloth-maker’s shop, she pulls out Mal’s purse and tries to judge its weight without opening it. It’s a game she’s played many times before, the is-this-enough-to-pay-off-all-my-debts gamble. Sometimes it’s paid off — mostly it hasn’t, but sometimes it has, and that’s what matters. This time, she’s managed to accrue the cash before taking on the debt, and that’s put her in a fine mood. It’s only a twenty minute walk to her destination, and it’s still early enough in the day the rainy season’s prototypical weather hasn’t shown up yet.
Alice jingles the purse in her pocket and tries to guess how much she can use as a bribe. Unfortunately, a lot of that depends on how far this contact tells her she’ll have to go to find her father. For all she knows her father could be in the heart of the Continent somewhere and she’d finally have to leave behind her familiar island life.
By some luck, the only living people she’s managed to track down have made their homes on the islands. There were a few of her mother’s classmates who were from the Continent, surely, but the only one on Alice’s half of the class photograph. He’s been dead six years now — longer than Alice has been searching for her father. He wasn’t the only one of her parents’ classmates to die, either. Of the ones she could find, some had no information but others’ names. She’s spent a while with no more answers than, “Try here next.”
This last lead, her one last chance at actually finding her father, is supposed to be on Aparo in the flower district, on Chrysanthemum street. The map Alice memorized has that six blocks away from her current location — not bad, but it won’t be easy to fight her way through the bustling market crowds. She could go the long way around, but it’s much longer, and—
As Alice reflexively scans the crowds, she spots someone that makes her dart away. It’s not imperial guards, thankfully, but it is someone who she’d much rather avoid at this particular moment. So Alice ducks down and slips around a corner, out of sight before anyone’s noticed.
Or so she thinks. She’s walking briskly towards the cobbled stone of the flower district when she hears the telltale sound of footsteps. She is definitely being followed, and she really does not want to put up with this particular hiccup right now.
So she pretends Gunny isn’t following her. But her feet haven’t even touched the cobblestone when Gunny shouts out. “Alice! Wait!”
Alice takes that as cue to run. She sprints off down the dark cobbled streets, dodging carriages as often as other pedestrians. The streets are not exactly empty. All the respectable folk who live in the flower district are basking in the pleasant weather, enjoying all the elaborate gardens that lend the district its name. It’s almost enough activity to be a decent cover.
The thing is, elbowing people out of the way while you’re being chased is a much more unusual event here, and the wake of disgruntled folk Alice leaves behind her is far too easy to follow. So she weaves around the curving streets, trying to match landmarks to her maps as she sprints past. Eventually she finds herself running down a deserted back alleyway, Gunny not having yet caught up, and she grabs a hold of the nearest wall and hauls herself over it in a single, fluid motion.