Chapter 18: Loss and Revenge

“Trust a good man to watch your back. Trust a dead man to keep your secrets.”

-Emile Dryden, 181 U.E.

The crew came together to search for this ‘Cantarella’ that the other prostitute had mentioned. A few of the other girls corroborated that Cantarella had seen Kazzul the night prior, but none of them knew where she was, and she hadn’t clocked in at her usual time.

A thorough search of the Shirzuit’s bottom floor revealed nothing. As such, Stephan accompanied Quintilla to question the madam of the establishment.

The madam was a corpulent Ashlandic woman with ashen skin, perhaps in her early forties, seated on top of a pile of colorful cushions in a corner of the brothel. A drapery of sheer fabric was tied loosely about her body. She puffed idly on a hookah while a grown man nursed at one of her breasts, seemingly nearly smothering him under its sheer bulk.

“Greetings, Vörela,” Quintilla said with a shallow bow.

The madam did not bid the man at her nipple to stop. Instead, she regarded her two visitors with disinterest and blew a cloud of pink-ish smoke from her nostrils in their general direction.

There was a long silence.

“Quintilla Wenezian. What a pleasure,” Vörela said with a long sigh that betrayed her true feelings on the matter. Her Elandran was marred by a heavy Ashlandic accent. “How goes the business, these days? Lots of murdering to be done?”

“Enough to keep my hands dirty,” Quintilla said. “And you?”

The madam nodded at the man in her care. “See for yourself. Hardly a moment spare.”

“I’ll make this short, then. You have a woman in your employ named Cantarella. I’d like to find her.”

“What a coincidence. So would I.”

“Your girls told us that she didn’t come in today.”

“Correct.”

“Perhaps you could give us permission to search the room where she tended to a member of our crew last night.”

“Don’t bother. Isn’t there. I checked.”

“She must have a place to stay in the city,” Stephan said. “Would you be able to give us an address?”

Vörela’s eyebrows rose just a hair. “Your pet speaks, Wenezian?”

“I’m no pet,” Stephan said firmly.

The madam chuckled. “Tumba is an odd place. In the Ashlands, men know their place.”

“Focus, Vörela,” Quintilla said, putting a hand on her holstered revolver. “If I’d come to hear you ramble, I’d have brought a bottle. Tell me where Cantarella is staying.”

The madam wagged a chubby finger. “That’s a favor. Favors aren’t free.”

“The way I see it, we’re doing you a favor,” Stephan said.

“I don’t need your favors. I’m perfectly capable of handling my own girls, thank you very much. So if you’d like access to Cantarella, it’s going to cost you.”

“How much?” Quintilla asked.

Vörela’s eyes sparkled. “A favor for a favor, to be collected at my leisure.”

“As long as it can be done in a day’s work, sure.”

“We have a deal.”

Vörela snapped her fingers a few times, and the man at her breast rose immediately, wiping his mouth.

“Paper and quill,” Vörela said absently, and the man hurried over to a nearby table to fetch the requested materials.

The madam wrote a few short sentences on the paper in black ink, had the man blow it dry, then handed the paper to Quintilla, who immediately passed it on to Stephan, in turn.

“Make sure there’s no clause about selling my soul in there,” she said jokingly. “Ashlanders always get you with that one.”

Vörela smiled blithely.

“Are you sure this is the best option?” Stephan asked.

“No, but it’s the quickest one, which means I owe it to Kazzul to try it.”

Stephan nodded. He scanned over the paragraphs of the impromptu contract.

“Nothing about selling your soul,” he said. “There is, however, a clause that entitles her to twenty-five thousand standards if you fail to fulfill the favor asked of you.”

“That’s fine. I never fail.”

“It also says that she may ask you to kill up to five people in a one-day period.”

“Only five?” Quintilla asked. “Vörela, do you have so little faith in me?”

The madam clicked her tongue. “Generosity is a virtue, my dear.”

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“Anything else?” Quintilla continued, glancing in Stephan’s direction.

“Nothing too dangerous-sounding.”

“Then give that here.”

Quintilla took the contract. She used a knife provided by Vörela to piece the skin of her arm. She dipped the quill in the blood and used it to write a signature at the bottom of the page. Vörela did the same.

“Very good, Wenezian,” the madam said. “Now I will tell you where Cantarella resides.”

*****

“Do you know what happened to the Meksen Crew?” Kazzul asked.

“Most of them were wiped out in a feud with another crew,” Cantarella said. “You certainly didn’t go in guns blazing, so don’t even try to take credit for that.”

Kazzul shrugged. “You’re right. I didn’t. I’m not a very good fighter.” He licked his lips, staring down the barrel of the gun pointed between his eyes. “But I am good at getting people where I want them. Made a few second-hand introductions here and there, and boom, the Meksen Crew were teamed up with the Shakz Crew to raid a fat merchant vessel. That raid was highly successful, but the biggest prize of the haul, a bag of gemstones, was lost before it could be shared equally.

“Naturally, both crews suspected the other, and it wasn’t long before tempers flared. A few well-placed rumors later, and they were very much ready to slaughter each other.

“How unlucky, then, that this coincided with a mass bout of crippling diarrhea for the Meksen Crew. Could hardly get out of their beds when the Shakz Crew entered their vessel under cover of night and poked them full of holes.

“In the end, the Shakz Crew never recovered the gems. Odd, isn’t it?”

“You’re saying you did all that?” Cantarella asked. “Liar.” She pressed the gun against his forehead.

Kazzul closed his eyes. “Nothing but the truth. Lizzy was dear to me. When she died, I made sure that the crew of that ship paid with their fucking lives. That was all I could do.”

“You could have kept her alive.”

“Her death wasn’t my fault.”

“Bullshit.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Kazzul yelled. “Lizzy and I agreed on the plan together! She made her own choice!”

“You knew the risk,” Cantarella hissed. “You’re a seasoned pirate. She was innocent. You let her go ahead with it anyway.”

Kazzul let out a shuddering sigh. He screwed his eyes shut, tried to keep his face neutral. “I… It wasn’t…”

“No matter who you killed to make up for it, or what you’ve told yourself to forget about what happened, you, Kazzul Clanless, are responsible.”

Kazzul thrust his head forward, pistol barrel digging painfully into his skin.

“Then pull the trigger,” he whispered. “I have no more excuses left. I am done.”

He felt her hesitate. She tensed up. The gun shook in her hand.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he asked as he opened his eyes to look at her.

“Feel what?” Cantarella growled, tears spilling over her cheeks.

“The guilt.”

Cantarella was silent, but her eyes said enough.

The door to the bedroom burst open, causing Kazzul to flinch. A shower of splinters bounced off the walls and floor.

Kurko shouldered into the room. Silent, unarmed, but exuding menace.

The captain was right behind him. She had her revolver trained on Cantarella before the woman had even turned around.

“No!” Kazzul called.

With a great heave, he managed to tip his chair forward. He carried into Cantarella and knocked them both to the floor, plastic ties digging painfully into his skin as he laid curled-up on top of her.

The sharp crack of a gunshot filled the room, a bullet going wide over their heads.

“Nobody shoot!” Kazzul shouted, struggling to look over his shoulder as the crew piled into the room. “Just hold on a fucking minute!”

“She had a gun to your head,” Quintilla said, revolver still pointed at Cantarella. “I assumed you were in trouble. You’re saying this was, what, some very advanced roleplay?”

“No, she did actually intend to kill me,” Kazzul said. He shook his head. “It’s a long story. Anyway, get me loose!”

Stephan took a sword from Yin’s waist, covering the girl’s eyes with his other hand, and threw the weapon to the captain. She came forward and cut Kazzul’s bonds so that he could roll free of the chair.

Cantarella was sobbing uncontrollably, curled into a fetal position with her hands over her face.

Kazzul kicked her pistol away.

“Kazzul, you’re going to have to explain—” Quintilla said.

“Later,” Kazzul said firmly. “Thanks for the save, but I need some time alone with her. Leave.”

Quintilla looked over at Kurko. The big man shrugged.

“You sure you can handle this?” the captain asked.

“Yep.”

“Then… good luck, I guess?”

With some awkward shuffling, the crew filed out of the room.

Kazzul got dressed gently to avoid exacerbating the cuts all over his body and crouched beside Cantarella.

“I think we should have a talk,” he said. “Without guns or knives, this time.”

*****

“What the fuck was that?” Yin asked, finally breaking the silence. She slumped down in the couch inside the Tits Up’s rec room.

Stephan tended to a few cuts of raw beef for dinner, sleeves rolled up. He rubbed them with a variety of spices, the savory notes putting a smile on his face, then set about tenderizing them.

“I couldn’t tell you,” he answered. “I felt like a proper hero there, for a moment. He didn’t seem all that grateful to see us.”

Stephan turned on the stove and placed two of the cuts in a frying pan with a bit of oil.

“Assistant!”

Yin showed up at his side. “Don’t boss me around like that,” she muttered.

He winked and asked her to put on a pot of rice. She complied.

“I’m sorry about your starday,” Stephan said, more somber. “It was supposed to be more special.” He flipped the steaks around in the frying pan.

“Don’t worry about that!” Yin said. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I—”

“Don’t do that! Now you have to wash your hands.”

“Whatever.” Yin ran her hands under the tap while staring dully at Stephan. “As I was saying, you don’t need to worry. I had…” She looked down, cheeks purpling. “Fun. In Aqith, a Najun is celebrated with pranks. But we got to have a whole adventure, which is better.”

Stephan chuckled. “I don’t know if that’s what I’d call it, but I’m glad you had fun.”

“When’s your Najun?”

“10th of Spirit.” He had celebrated his last starday on Concord soil, with his wife.

“I’ll start planning it now!” Yin said.

Stephan couldn’t help but smile.

“I still hate you though.”

“Of course you do.”