Chapter 19: Guilt

“You’ll touch the horizon before you can outrun your own shame.”

-Unknown

Kazzul sat next to Cantarella in the sandy dirt. They looked at an inauspicious mound ringed by smooth stones and seashells. In the distance, down a shallow slope, the gentle sea caressed the shore.

“I’m sorry,” Kazzul said. “I should have protected her.”

“You’re right. But… I should have been there, too. I let us drift apart. I was meant to be by her side, always. In the end, the only thing that drew me back was her death.” The torment, the shame, was apparent in her eyes.

She wept, and Kazzul did his best to console her. He placed an uncertain hand on her arm and offered a smile that he hoped was reassuring. Consoling weeping maidens was not his forte. Most of the time, they were paid to feign happiness in his presence.

“You did make them pay, didn’t you?” Cantarella asked, wiping tears. “That part was true?”

Kazzul nodded. “I did. Every last one of them.”

“Good.” She paused, glanced up at him. “Did… did you love her?”

He looked away, studied the purpling sky. “No. I cannot lie. I’ve had many women, but I’ve only ever loved one.”

“Ah. I see.”

“What will you do now? Any plans to murder me going forward?”

Cantarella shook her head, the sun’s last light framing her delicate, pale face. “You can go.”

“Then… what’s the plan? Will you return to the Shirzuit?”

“That pigsty?” Cantarella shivered. “No. I only went there so I could catch you. You have a bit of a reputation.”

“What kind?”

“Whoremonger.”

“Not entirely untrue, then.”

“I noticed.”

They fell silent, both looking at the grave.

“I suppose it’s about time to get out of here,” Kazzul said. “It’ll be dead as the deep soon.”

He made to stand, but Cantarella grabbed his sleeve, guided him back down.

“Wait,” she said. “I, uh… wanted to apologize. Not just to her, but to you as well. The way I acted was—”

“Barbaric? A little bit. Nothing I wouldn’t do for my sister, though.”

“You have one?”

“No. Theoretically.”

The woman let her hand slide to the back of his neck. She leaned in close, hot breath on his neck, full lips puckered.

She kissed his cheek, twice, three times, moving towards his lips.

An electric rush went through Kazzul’s body. A shiver of vitality. The presence of a warm body against his, which never failed to perk him up, to dull his frayed nerves.

He could just settle into it, enjoy his time.

Cantarella kissed him on the lips, hard and desperate, as tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes.

No, some part of Kazzul whispered.

He placed both hands on her shoulders and guided her firmly away.

“No,” he said.

Cantarella shrank into herself, lip quivering. “Why?”

“You are grieving.”

“So? I can make my own decisions. You sure didn’t protest before.”

“That was different. Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it in me.”

He still felt the desire. He wished that he had let her continue what she had started. He wanted it. Needed it, more than she did.

But it wasn’t right.

He had a responsibility, to Cantarella and to Lizzy, to be a better sort of man than he really was.

“Come on,” Kazzul said, and got Cantarella on her feet. “I’ll take you somewhere safe to stay.”

*****

The whole crew, including Kazzul, assembled in the captain’s cabin the following day.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Kazzul had returned in the early hours of the morning. Sober, to everyone’s surprise. Stephan had attempted to ask the lubbard about what had happened, but the pilot revealed nothing.

“Now that we’re all back in one piece, I have a bit of good news,” Quintilla said. She stood behind her desk, hands on the back of the chair. “With the money we came into from that warship job, I’ve convinced the Dryden Crew to treat with us. They have four of the map pieces we need.”

“Map pieces?” Stephan asked.

“I will explain in a moment,” Quintilla said.

“Emile Dryden?” Kazzul asked. “The man’s a mad dog. He’d just as soon shoot us as say hello.”

“True. But he needs money, just like the rest of us, and he respects strength. We have both.”

“So that’s it, then?” Kurko asked. “We convince him to trade off his pieces, then go on our merry way?”

Quintilla nodded. “Pretty much. Although considering that this is Dryden we’re dealing with, we’ll have to prepare for a fight.”

“It sounds like this is going to be a dangerous negotiation,” Stephan said. “Should I be worried?”

“Nothing we haven’t faced before,” Quintilla said with a lazy grin. “You can rest easy, Mr. Lordling.”

“Apart from the fact that Dryden is known as one of the deadliest men in Tumba,” Kurko muttered.

“And his ship, the Sea’s Rebuke, is superior to the Tits Up in almost every capacity,” Kazzul added.

“And he’s hand-picked a crew of bloodthirsty murderers to man it,” Yin concluded.

Stephan swallowed hard.

Of course it couldn’t be easy.

“Noted,” Quintilla said. “Even with all that, though, Dryden isn’t half as good as he thinks.” She shook her head, tapping her fingers on the back of the chair. “Get yourselves in order, because we’re casting off tomorrow morning. We’re treating with the Dryden Crew on the island of Last Leg to the west three days from now.”

“Understood, captain,” Kurko said with a nod.

“Is everyone clear on what we’re doing?” Quintilla asked, scanning the crew.

Stephan slowly raised his hand. “Uh…”

“Apart from you.”

“We’re clear,” Kazzul said. No one else spoke up.

“Good. You can all head out. Mr. Lordling, I have something to show you.”

Everyone else filed out of the cabin, leaving only Stephan and Quintilla.

She rounded the desk and came up to him. “You’re part of this crew now. You deserve to know exactly what we’re doing here. You good for a little excursion?”

“Sure,” Stephan said. “Where are we going?”

“To see my Auntie. She’s a dear old woman, but don’t take any food she gives you. It’s not poisoned, mind you—she’s just a hopeless cook. Maybe you’d be able to give her a few pointers.”

“Very well. Lead the way, captain.”

*****

Ario Merini sipped his wine, enjoying the fresh, seaside breeze. It swept over the outdoor seating area and took away some of the sun’s oppressive heat.

He was on the third story, the balcony heavy with vines and flowers in yellow and pink and orange. The city of Redharbor stretched out before him. Straight, orderly streets. Clean, angular architecture. He was far enough off the ground that the unfortunate scent of the common folk didn’t reach him, allowing him to truly savor the wine.

It was an excellent vintage, the kind that exploded in the mouth.

Even so, it tasted hollow. The more he sipped from the glass, the more he felt that something was missing.

Ario’s fingers twitched. He needed a project. Something to occupy his mind.

“Commander Merini?” came a feminine voice from behind him. “A moment of your time, sir?”

Ario sighed. He snapped his fingers, had the woman stand before him. She wore a crisp uniform, white and blue. The emblem on her breast pinned her down as a sergeant.

She was an unremarkable thing, all in all. Flat, brown hair, dull eyes, ordinary build.

“Open your jacket,” Ario said.

“Sir?” the sergeant asked.

Ario tilted his head, sipped at his wine, and waited.

Eventually, the woman complied, opening her uniform jacket to expose the sweat-stained undershirt beneath it.

He noted her one redeeming feature. She had wonderfully prominent collarbones. The kind he would have liked to run his hands along, to gaze upon, exposed and clean. It made him smile. He wouldn’t do anything to her, of course. That would be foolish. But the thought was nice.

“There we are,” he said. “Now, you may tell me what little trifle you have brought me.”

“The Intrepid was shot down, as you feared, sir,” the sergeant said, putting on an air of professional formality despite her obvious displeasure. “The wreckage has been recovered.”

Ario nodded slowly. “Preliminary conclusions?”

“The self-destruct was triggered, making it difficult to parse the wreckage. Although, the hull did bear a breach consistent with a drain anchor, which has lead my superiors to believe that—”

“Pirates,” Ario said. A smile tugged at the corner of his lip. “My, my. That is a surprise.

The loss of the Intrepid was an annoyance. It had carried intelligence which would be vital for Ario to launch his retaking of the Aiyek Archipelago.

This development, however, made his hairs stand on end.

Perhaps I have found my project, he thought.

“Captain on-site?” Ario asked.

“Captain Morn, sir.”

“Very well. I will speak with him to corroborate what you have told me. In the meantime, I would like you to contact our agents in Tumba. Have them riddle out which pack of pirate scum decided to lay hands on Concordian property.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That is all. Leave.”

The sergeant complied, hurrying out the door behind him. Once she left, he enjoyed the rest of his wine in peace, before standing up from the table and leaving money for the waiter.

He headed out of the building and into the street, where he took great care only to step on the cleanest patches of the filthy sidewalk. The driver waited outside his sleek, black car, and opened the door for him.

Ario had the driver take him to the three-story villa where he stayed, on the outskirts of the city. Once inside, he went straight to his study, closing and locking the door behind him. He pulled an ornate, wooden box off one of the bookshelves and sat behind his desk.

The box had no lock. It was kept closed with hair-fine enchantments etched into the wood. They popped open as soon as Ario touched the object, the magic responding to his presence. He lifted the lid and peered inside, sighing with content.

Three human skulls lay inside, white and clean and polished. He let one hand drift over the smooth scalps as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

“Mmm…” he hummed to himself.

These were his finest specimens. The purest and most symmetrical he had found throughout his long career. They had been painstakingly cleaned and bathed in acid to remove all blemishes.

I expect I’ll be making some additions to my collection soon, he thought.