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Razan sat down at the dining table, spreading paper out in front of him. He checked the ink was good, felt the brush to make sure it would work, and stopped.
He had three letters to write. One to his previous employer, one to his landlady, and one to his family.
After careful consideration, he decided his older sister would be a better person to write than either of his parents. She would be more… understanding.
Razan wrote the letter to his landlady before the others, as it would be the easiest. He used big, easy-to-see strokes. First he thanked her for letting him use a room in her lovely home, then told her he'd gone back to Tottori. He asked she put all his things in a box, which he would collect eventually.
He was writing a formal letter to his employer, wondering which spirit to say he'd been kidnapped by, when Marie and Sophie came in.
Sophie immediately walked over to see what he was doing. "Is that Japanese? It's beautiful."
"No, it's Swedish," Razan said flatly.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
"Are you writing letters home?" Marie asked.
"Yes," he answered. "My landlady will be fretting, and my employer will be upset. It would be rude to leave them wondering if I died."
"Hell, I have to write my mother," Sophie said, dropping his letter. "Where did you get the paper?"
"From the room that handles correspondence," Razan said. "It's on this side, to the left."
"Thank you!" She ran off.
He looked at Marie. "Is there no one you need to write?"
She shrugged indifferently. "I have no living relatives."
Razan wasn't sure how to reply to that, so he shrugged back and studied his paper. Marie went to her room.
Peter came out of his room just as Sophie returned.
"Razan and I are writing home," she told him. "Want to join us?"
For a moment, Peter looked almost afraid. Then he smiled his usual bright smile and shook his head. "Nah, I can put it off for a while. You have fun, though." He went back into his room without waiting for her reply.
Sophie frowned. "Didn't he just come out of there?"
Razan dipped his brush in the ink and continued writing.
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Sophie took a deep breath, let it out, and put pen to paper.
> Sylvester,
>
> You would not believe the adventure I'm having!
>
> It started when I stole Countess Danescourt's jewels. All of them. Even her diamond and ruby set, which she had tucked away in a hatbox. I'm wearing her pearls as I write.
>
> Anyways, she came to her room just as I was leaving, and nearly saw me. I dropped to the ground and ran like the devil, finally hiding in a crate half a block down. It was the wrong crate to hide in, or perhaps the perfect one, because only three minutes after I closed the lid over me, another crate was set on top of mine!
>
> I knew I wasn't going to get out any time soon, so I made myself comfortable and went to sleep. When I woke up, my crate was being loaded onto a cart. And then it was loaded onto a ship! I couldn't believe it when I felt the floor beneath me rocking in the waves.
>
> I yelled and hollered for quite a while before anyone heard me and let me out. They were going to treat me like any other stowaway, but having several thousand pound's worth of jewels in my pockets did wonders for their opinion of me. The captain himself had breakfast with me that first morning, and we agreed to not discuss how it came about that I was on his ship.
>
> Not quite the "sold as a ship's coal shoveler" Mother predicted for me, eh?
>
> The ship, turns out, was on its way to New York City! That's right, your favorite sister is now in America. And doing quite well, thanks to your future mother-in-law's contributions.
>
> I'm about to board a train heading west, ready for more adventures! I don't know where I'll end up, so I'm not bothering to give a return address. If you have a letter for me, just fold it up into the shape of a bird and send it out a window, it'll get to me eventually.
>
> Your far more interesting sibling,
>
> Sophie
>
> P.S. How do you think Mother would react if I brought home a cowboy for Christmas?
Sophie finished, read the letter over, and nodded to herself. She set the page aside to dry and pulled forward the next one.
> Dear Mother,
>
> I am so sorry it has taken me this long to write. This is my first opportunity to do so, for reasons which I shall explain.
>
> You were right. I went for a midnight stroll on the night of Countess Danescourt's ball, and two men kidnapped me. It was quite terrifying.
>
> As you predicted would happen, they took me bound and gagged to the docks, where I was sold as a coal shoveler to a man on a ship. Thankfully, as it was dark and I was in Sylvester's old trousers and overcoat, no one realized I was a female until the next morning.
>
> By providence, it was the captain who first recognized my feminine beauty, and he rescued me from the dark underbelly of the ship. I explained my predicament, and he sympathized, but there was nothing he could do, as we were already well on our way to Morocco.
>
> As I have no money and no passport, I must remain on his ship until it circles back around to England. Thankfully it is a lovely ship, with many respectable passengers.
>
> There is a family from Manchester on board, and I have been earning my meals by teaching the little ones to read and play piano. It is possible they may hire me to go with them when we reach Brazil, which is their ultimate destination.
>
> If not, there is a possibility of my leaving the ship in Florida, where the immigration office is said to be very lax. I have been playing poker with the ship's crew, and I find Sylvester is right: card counting is quite easy. By the time we reach that continent I expect to have enough money to tour the entire country.
>
> If I'm not in Brazil, that is.
>
> I shall attempt to keep you abreast of my situation as much as possible in the coming weeks.
>
> Your loving and thoroughly repentant daughter,
>
> Sophie
She giggled as she wrote, imagining the succession of dramatic fainting spells her mother would pretend to have with each sentence.
For a moment, reading it over, she wondered which version of the story her father would hear. Her brother would never tell their mother about the jewels, but he might tell their father.
Not that the man would particularly care either way. He barely knew which of his daughters Sophie was.
Across the table, Razan was neatly folding his letters. Sophie watched him.
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"You're very precise," she said.
"Thank you." He spoke without looking up.
"Can you fold mine too, please?" she asked. "I'm not precise at all."
"You are not," he agreed. "Would you prefer they be folded in half or in thirds?"
"Thirds, please." She slid the papers over.
He scanned the page, frowning. "Your words all look the same, just hoops and lines. It's not what I thought English writing looked like."
"You've probably seen printed letters," she said. "These are cursive."
"You have two sets of letters?" he asked.
"Technically four, if you count capitals and lower-case." She pointed to her brother's name. "See, this is an S, and then this is an S, but lower-case."
"Japanese writing is much simpler," he decided, shaking his head.
He folded the letter.
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Marie looked over food options in the common area. There was a good variety of dishes, but she didn’t recognize half the ingredients.
Louis strolled over, Ebba at his side.
“Looking for lunch?” he asked cheerfully.
She motioned to the menu. “What would you recommend to put meat on someone’s bones?”
Ebba pointed to the shop that sold fancy drinks. “There’s a drink that’s strawberry juice mixed with sugar and cream. Delicious, but more than three a week will kill you.”
“As far as food, I’d suggest this thing here,” Louis said, pointing. “Beef and rice with some kind of sweet sauce. And a vegetable or two. You can request extra beef.”
“Thank you,” Marie said, pushing the button to order.
“I’d ask if you’re feeling a bit skinny, but clearly your form is perfection, so I must ask who you’re getting food for,” Louis said, exuding charm.
Ebba crossed her arms. “Oh, her form is perfection?”
Marie turned to Louis, crossing her arms as well. “Yes, you dare compliment me like that in front of another woman?”
Louis took half a step back. “My, I just remembered I forgot something very important! I’ll return shortly!” He spun around and hurried off.
Ebba smirked.
“Still an idiot,” Marie said, shaking her head. She looked at Ebba. “Strawberries and cream?”
“Yes, come, I’ll show you,” she said, motioning. “The food will take fifteen minutes or so; there’s time.”
“Thank you.” Marie watched the other woman as they walked. "Out of curiosity, has Louis told you how… well we knew each other?"
Ebba slowed. "Yes. It's easier to get teeth out of that man than straight, truthful information, but I understand why you broke his wrist."
"Good," Marie said, focusing on their destination. "What would you like me to do?"
“How to put this… Louis is in my group. We have our routines, our customs; you can’t change those. We’ve been flirting for years, and I doubt that’s going to end. But he’s been pining after you since the day we got here.”
“That tells me what you’d like me to not do. In your ideal world, what would I do?”
"Be my friend." Ebba put her arm around Marie's shoulders. "Join us on those routines. We look very different, so if we spend time together we'll grow in popularity with the rostari. I'm sure they’re crazy for the 'old lovers reunited' thing. If we become a happy trio with Louis you'll have people begging for your life story by the end of the month."
Marie gave Ebba a sideways glance, eyebrows raised. "A happy trio?"
"I will do anything for money." She grinned. "I suspect you're a kindred spirit."
"Power, not money," Marie said, pushing the arm off. Grinning back, she put her arm around Ebba’s waist. "But if you have one you tend to get the other."
They looked at each other; two sharks circling the same shipwreck.
"We will be friends," Ebba purred.
"We will be great friends."
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Peter sat at their table, ready to try a cheese empanada. It looked good, but was rather small. The other "simple" meals hadn't been much bigger, but they were more than a single item on a smallish plate.
Razan sat down on his left, a bowl of ramen in his hands. "Sophie and Marie?"
Peter shrugged, lifting the fried thing. "Marie said she'd be back, Sophie is probably with Rani."
Razan looked at his food. "Waiting would be polite, but it would have been more polite of them to be here at noon." Thus resolving his moral quandary, he began to eat.
Peter wondered if he needed hot sauce for the empanada.
Marie came into the room, carrying a bowl of food and a pink drink. She set them down in front of Peter and took his empanada. "Eat," she ordered.
He blinked. "What is it?"
"Food. Eat it." She sat down and bit into the fried thing.
His lunch having been stolen, Peter looked at the bowl in front of him. It seemed to be cubes of meat and vegetables in a dark sauce over a pile of rice. He stabbed his fork into the bowl and took a bite.
He couldn't begin to guess what the flavors were, but they were delicious. The pink thing mostly tasted expensive.
"You didn't get me any food?" Razan asked, watching Marie go to the kitchen.
She came back with a bottle of hot sauce. "You aren't the one who starved to death."
Peter flinched at that, but didn't stop eating.
"True," Razan said, lifting a slice of cabbage from his bowl. "Madam Marie, I have been wondering, how will we divide funds? When buying clothes, it asks for our group number. Are we supposed to trust each other to not use more than our share? Should someone keep track?"
Marie didn't answer for a few moments, chewing her food. She swallowed, glanced at the door, and looked at him. "I know something you don't know. Be reasonable with what you buy, but hear this: whenever we get things as a group, as long as Sophie pays last, we'll never be lacking." She took another bite of the empanada.
Razan grinned. "How many jewels does that girl have?"
Marie pointedly didn't answer.
"That's not fair, is it?" Peter asked. "To Sophie, I mean."
She shrugged. "In my world money comes and it goes. When you have it, spend it. If our group ever runs out, we will hear your thoughts on how to save and be economical. In the meantime, if we only buy things we need we'll last a good number of years."
Peter looked at the meal she'd bought him. "All right. But I'll get my own food, if you don't mind."
She nodded. "As long as what you get is enough to feed you."
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Sophie nearly touched the purchase button, then pulled back and bit a nail.
She'd been doing that for the past ten minutes.
The weapon she was looking at, a “chain spear”, was amazing. It was thin, as long as her arm, and had joints that could be moved up to 90-degree angles. It had a sliding lever on the hilt that would make the chain part straighten or go back to whatever shape she'd bent it into. It would work underwater. And it was four hundred credits.
Sophie would be the first to admit she didn't have a concept of how much things cost. She'd grown up in a big house with rich parents who'd given her everything she could ever need, on top of an allowance that let her buy anything she wanted.
Anything she couldn't buy, usually because shopkeepers didn't want to sell weapons and tools to a Lady, she simply stole.
But she recognized buying one item for the amount of money that could feed her for a year was excessive.
On the other hand, she'd already sold a ring for seven hundred credits, so she might as well buy the chain spear. Besides, buying a weapon was the sort of thing Marie would approve of.
She closed her eyes and pushed the button.
When she opened them a notification had appeared, telling her the chain spear would be in her room within the hour.
Sophie thanked the machine and calmly walked back to her group's area.
Peter was playing cards with Marie. A pile of dishes sat in the sink.
"You ate without me?" Sophie pouted, going to the kitchen.
"You were late, we were hungry," Marie said absently, putting two cards on the table.
"Sorry," Peter said, putting one card down.
"And the other?" Marie asked him.
"Can't decide," he muttered.
Sophie found her lunch, a cheese-filled pastry, in the small oven. She took a bite, grateful it had been kept warm for her.
She ate leaning against the kitchen counter, watching the game. It was called cribbage; she'd heard of it but never played. Mostly because her brother would only play card games if they involved gambling.
When she was done eating, she put her plate in the sink and went to her room.
The chain spear was sitting on her desk, as if it had always been there.
Sophie beamed, running to pick it up. The lever was in center position, keeping the links straight and rigid. It was heavier than what she'd expected, but it was still light enough for her to wave around like a sword.
She slid the lever down, and the links slumped loosely. Grinning, she pushed the lever back to center. The chain snapped up, with enough speed and force that it would hurt if it hit someone. Also, the sound it made was amazing.
She repeated that five or six times, imagining whacking an opponent in the head as the links snapped into place.
Finally she stopped, ready to test its other feature. Sophie set the weapon on her desk, where she'd marked out precise measurements. Sliding the lever down, she bent the chain left in two places, creating a three-sided rectangle. When she was certain the shape was correct, she slid the lever to the center, then up. The chain straightened, and then folded itself back into a rectangle.
Sophie swung it around a bit, testing how well the shape would hold. There was some give, but not much.
Smiling, she slid the lever to center position and walked to the wall, where she'd put a tiny scratch. She touched the tip of her spear to the seam next to the mark and pushed.
It was a tight fit, but the chain slipped through to the other side. Giddy with excitement, she slid the lever up and pulled the handle back ever so slightly. She felt the tip hit something, and felt that something give.
The wall went up.
Feeling incredibly clever, Sophie danced in her room as the corridor came into view. When the wall was up high enough, she ran out to make sure her spear hadn't left any mark on the button. It hadn't.
Bouncing with excitement, she kissed the chain spear and ran back into her room as the wall started to close.
She didn't need the rope in her vent any more, she had a key.
She could get out any time she liked. And she could go anywhere.