Chapter Six

I did not fear godly wrath.

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in Goddess Ansha’s power – I had witnessed the sunrise every morning of my life –felt her presence with the warm sunlight on my skin. I just didn’t think she cared.

Was I truly to believe she pulled the sun from the darkness for our benefit? Maybe she did it for herself - or simply to spite the darkness.

Why would she covet sun crystals? They were of no use to her, she was light itself - or care if we sang silly hymns or wore golden crowns?

If the gods truly loved us, as we were all told as children, then surely there would be no suffering, no hunger, no pain in the world. No, I was sure they thought of us in the same way we think of ants. Interesting for a moment, when boredom takes hold and curiosity wanders, but they cared not for our feelings, our hopes, our dreams, the sins we partake in, the things we may or may not steal, and no tears are shed when we are squished beneath their feet.

I did not fear godly wrath. Not then at least.

All my clothing – including my insipid pink dress had been donated to the needy. My Only two options were my nightdress or my robes. The former - easier to manoeuvre in, was thin and would not keep me warm without my woollen blanket, not at night, not out at sea. Though warmer – the latter did not allow for swift movements, and I needed stealth.

My shoes had also been donated, but I had grown used to bare feet, feeling the sand, the grass, the stone on my skin helped me feel grounded, connected to a world I did not understand.

So, wearing my long white nightdress and bloomers, clutching a pillow case filled with all I would need, I faced the bedroom door and sucked in my breath. Holding onto it tightly, listening intently for any sound from beyond – any swish of robes on the tiles, the creak of a door opening – I stood. But there was nothing, just a beckoning silence, screaming out for me.

With pounding heart, my hand reached for the latch. A click and it opened. I pulled the door towards me.

Flinching, for a figure stood before me, half-hidden in the dim light, I did not relax after realising it was my Priestess Ahnn. Dressed in a matching nightdress, her hand shielded the soft glow of her sun crystal lamp, casting shadows across her fraught face.

“Don’t do it, Priestess Aura,” she whispered.

I felt like a child, caught with her hand in the biscuit tin before supper, and I was thankful to the dark for hiding the flush of my cheeks.

“I have to,” I replied.

“No, it is a choice,” she said, forcing me back into my room with her stride, “one you do not have to make.”

“It isn’t a choice – the ship, it calls me. ‘Mara’ it whispers in my dreams, it beckons me – I must go.”

“You are not ‘Mara’, you’re Priestess Aura,” she pleaded, “do not listen to it, it is a trick, sent by Goddess Ansha to test you. Do not fail her, do not evoke her wrath. Stay here - stay here with me – little bean – please - I mean something to you, don’t I? I’m worth staying for?”

I wish I could say she was. I loved her, and I wished that to be enough, willed it to be true for days, but it was not.

“Come with me,” I said.

“How could I?” she gasped.

“Just take my hand, we can run away together,” I reached out for her hand, but she snatched it away.

“No,” she scoffed, shaking the curls from her face as her left eye flickered, like the High Priestess’ did when I aggravated her to the point of headache, “I cannot!”

“I won’t ever return,” I plucked at her heart strings, “you shall never see me again.”

“That is cruel, priestess Aura, do not say such things,” she begged.

“It’s the truth, I’ll be breaking my oath – I’ll no longer be welcome in the dawn palace,” I said.

“You will always be welcome, as long as I am here,” her voice shattered like glass.

“You know that’s not true, the High Priestess will never take me back.”

“She may-” she said, but she knew the truth.

“She won’t. So come with me,” I repeated.

“You know I cannot, and neither can you, you must stay with me, do you hear? Little bean do you promise?” she clasped her hands together as if in prayer.

“No – for I could never break a promise to you,” I sniffed.

“So that is it, is it?” her breathing rattled through her nose, “you are to just up and leave me, after all I have done, looked after you, loved you? You will go regardless? I shall loose you all over again?”

“Again?” I questioned.

“No, I misspoke,” she wiped the tears from her cheeks, “for you are causing me such pain, little bean.”

“I do not mean too,” I pleaded, for I hated to see her eyes redden so.

“Oh I think you do, you mean it, for you have a hateful heart – I have tried to fix it, I have tried to make you see the wonders of our life here, but I cannot! I cannot make you see that you are needed here, that I need you, for you care not for other’s feelings, only your own - and you wish me to go with you? You ask me to break my oath to our goddess, as if loyalty means nothing to you? Are you mad?” she questioned through clenched teeth, her soft voice, morphed into a dragon’s claw that pierced my heart. Falling open, my bottom lip quivered. How could my Priestess Ahnn say such words to me? I stood in silence, as she curled upon the floor and sobbed like a spoiled child. Cruel – hateful heart. Mad? Me?

“No,” I replied with sudden clarity, “but I surely will be if I stay here a moment longer.”

Squeezing my pillowcase in my fingers, I stepped over her and left the room.

I marched quickly down the hallway and to the foyer. The crystals in the golden chandelier were dimming and I was glad. I hoped in my absence, Priestess Ahnn would be cursed with the job forever more, and then maybe she would see, she would understand why I had to go – the monotony, the never ending cycle of laying them in the sun, warming them with light only for them to dim, time and time again, plunging us into darkness until we obeyed their demands and laid them in the sun once more.

A flickering shadow caught my eye. It was not priestess Ahnn, she did not chase after me. No, it was the high priestess, staring at me from the entrance to her chambers. She looked me up and down, clocking my determined look, washed with rage, and without a word, she pursed her lips, took a step backwards and slowly closed the door in front of her. She had failed her test. Her hair would fall from her head and Ansha would curse the land forever more.

I stood still for a moment. It was no shock, no great revelation that the high priestess wanted rid of me, but the sting was no less for that fact. She had rescued me from the ocean’s bitter grip, brought me to the palace, awoken each night to feed and soothe me, raised me as best she knew how. But she had never loved me, though I realised in that moment I had craved it, and my anger towards her was resentment for she was my mother, but I was not her daughter.

Half hoping priestess Ahnn would come to her senses and race after me, I stalled as long as I had the heart to. But the slamming of a door down the hallway gave me all the knowledge I needed, and with a fleeting wave to the chandelier that brought me both torture and joy, I left the palace.

***

The air was thick and warm, for nightfall was no escape from the heat in summer. It burrowed its way down into my lungs and gave them no respite from my panic.

I faced the little dock. Most of the sailors had retired to their bunks, saving two - commanded to keep guard in the darkness at the bottom of the gangway.

Keeping close to the palm trees that lined the beach, I shuffled along the sand, edging ever closer to the ship. I had no plan, no great scheme to get aboard, just a burning desire and a determination to see it done. But tears pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision and hindering my progress. With the back of my hand, I smeared them down my cheeks as priestess Ahnn’s words repeated in my mind. You have a hateful heart – did she mean that? No – how could she, I was her little bean. Are you mad? I felt I could be, it was a stupid idea, but I edged closer regardless. I could hear the drunken chatter of the sailors on duty, the clink of a bottle thrown at a palm tree. Perhaps I didn’t need a master plan, I simply needed patience.

Crouching amongst the grass and fallen coconuts, I banished the last moments with Priestess Ahnn from my mind, and concentrated on the task at hand - the pop of a cork as another bottle was opened - a generous swig before passing it to his friend. A hiccup. Another. The endless tales with slurring words and lost thoughts. Another bottle thrown down into the sand. Another bottle opened.

My calves burned as I held my position crouched amongst the screeching maka bugs, the grasses clawed at my legs in the breeze. I sunk my knees into the sand for relief and pulled my book from my pillowcase. The night was too dark to see the words on the page, but I opened it anyway. Lifting it to my face, I inhaled its smell and was transported to the last chapter I had read.

Demarion’s ship bobbed in the ocean, hidden by the darkness of a cloudy night. Out of reach from the searching lamps on the dock of Feorassic, we waited. The guards’ concentration wavered as the night drew on, the lamp’s reach narrowing with every passing hour. One lamp gone. Two to go. We waited. The clouds threatened to give way to the moon, but the Goddess Isra of night was on our side. Another gone. We waited still. Finally the last lamp ceased its searching.

Demarion lowered the row boat. He insisted I stayed on board - he knew danger awaited and wanted to keep his beloved sister safe - but I would not let him have all the fun. Our oars in perfect sync, we quickly reached the jetty. Tying the boat to the post, we clambered onto the walkway. As expected the guards were passed out, snoring, empty bottles at their feet, so we reached the guard post with no resistance – a tower at the edge of the dock, the flag of Feoras flying above.

There was no need to force the door, for Demarion had taught me his skills in lock pick. I made short work of it and he patted me on the back, a proud brother.

Silently, we opened the door and Demarion struck a match on the rock wall. The dancing flame illuminated the prize for our patience. The rumours were true – the mines of Feorassic had bequeathed the most wondrous gift. A diamond, clear as the waters on Chrisanton and as large as my head. Demarion’s eyes gleamed at the sight of it, and I smiled to see him so happy.

Together – for the sheer weight of it required us both – we lifted it from its carved rock plinth, covered it with a sack and carried it to our waiting row boat.

The journey back to the ship dragged, as the weight of the diamond forced us low in the water, but with sheer determination and patience, we made it, to the cheers of our crew. We raised the anchor, dropped the sails and were long gone by dawn.

The drunk nattering had shifted to rhythmic snoring. It was now or never. I closed my book and returned it to the pillowcase. The sand muted my footsteps as I snuck up to the gangway. I waved a hand in front of each sailor, but they did not rouse. I threw my shoulders back, inhaled deeply through my nose, and released it slowly into the night before stepping onto the gangway. My foot tingled at the feeling of the soft, weathered wood on my bare skin. Closing my eyes, I thought once more of my home – my priestess Ahnn – her curls, her perfect teeth, her ocean eyes – her hurtful words. Opening them again, I charged up to the deck of the ship.

I could feel the movements of the ocean beneath my feet. Gentle, like the sway of the palm leaves caught in a summer breeze, yet undeniable like the roar of thunder in a storm. I stumbled forwards, catching myself on the creaking railings. Waiting to find my balance, I took in my surroundings. From a book in the library, I had learnt the basics of a merchant ship - I needed to go down, that much I knew – to the hold, where they stored their barrels and crates – where a small thing like me could hide.

Squinting in the moonlight, I scanned the deck for the cargo hatch. Finding it, I knelt, peering through the grate, but darkness engulfed the hold and I could only guess at far down it went down. With quivering hands, I propped open the hatch with a crate, just enough to throw down my pillowcase. It landed quickly with a soft hiss, not the clunk I had feared. I waited and listened. No footsteps came to investigate, no one had noticed.

Turning onto my stomach, I slid my legs through the gap and pushed the crate away, letting the wooden grate rest on my back. I lowered myself down, until my arms ached at the weight of body, and the grate became heavy on my shoulders.

I took one last look at the moon, and allowed myself to fall into the darkness. The grate slammed shut as I fell down into the belly of the ship.

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It was further than I had thought. Although the soft layer of straw broke my fall, pain shot up my legs as my feet jarred on the floor beneath. Breathing through my nose, I sat and bit down on my arm, trying to stifle my moans. As the pain began to dissipate, I wiggled my toes and was confident nothing was broken. Dragging my pillowcase along, I Shuffled on my backside to hide behind some barrels, their contents given away by the smell. Rum. A disgusting drink that turned the sweetest of men vile – and unfortunately for me - a sailor’s vice. Drawing my knees to my chest, I rested my head on them. I could hear the scratching of creatures in the walls, the occasional scuffle of straw shifting. Rats. I had not thought of the rats. I tucked my toes under my nightdress - I did not want them to be chewed off by filthy vermin as I slept. If I could – for my heart pounded at what I had done, would I could no longer undo, unless I suddenly grew wings like a filthy sea lark and flew back up to the deck. No. I had to accept what I had done. I had stowed away aboard a ship, and was bound for the south in the morning. Luckily for me, the swaying of the ship made me sleepy, and like a baby in her cradle, I was rocked to gentle slumber and my heavy eyelids flickered shut.

***

“What we got ‘ere then?”

I woke with a start. A dim, grey hue lit the hull, as I squinted to adjust, the shape of a boy came into focus. About my age, he had a black rat perched on his shoulder as if he were there on purpose.

“We got us a stowaway looks like, Chip,” reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of bread and fed it to the rat, and I realised he was, in fact, meant to be there. Disgusting. It gobbled it up like it hadn’t eaten in days, but it was so fat, it had likely been just minutes.

“Who are you?” I asked, cowering away in case he had some rat-disease.

“Who am I? Think mores the question, who are you?” he replied.

“I asked first.”

“Aye, but I’ve rights to be here, you on the other hand-” his eyebrows arched.

“You don’t know who I am, so how do you know I’m not meant to be here?” I glared at him.

“Cos one – you’re a girl, and the open ocean’s no place for you, and two, if you were meant to be here - captain would have fitted you out in proper clothing – a night dress ain’t fit for a sailor,” he ran a hand through his barley hair and chuckled. I could feel my cheeks redden as I wrapped my arms around my knees.

“Are you going to make me leave the ship?” I asked.

“Leave? Nah miss, I’m not gonna chuck you overboard,” he chuckled again.

“Overboard?” I sat up straight, looking up towards the grate. Daylight filtered through.

“We’ve left shore?” I asked.

“Aye, miss, a few hours back.”

I had done it. I had left Anshallia. I had left the island, and everything behind – the Dawn Palace, the High Priestess – Priestess Ahnn – my heart ached.

“Where are we bound?” I asked quickly.

“Lamaria, miss, Isle of the sea.”

“I knew it,” I whispered.

“I gotta take you to captain though, I’ll get lashes if I don’t,” his face twisted into a grimace and so did I as I thought of returning home, of seeing Priestess Ahnn again, of her repeating those words to me - you care not for other’s feelings, only your own.

“Wait, please – just wait until we’re further away, so he won’t think to turn back, I can’t go back,” I pleaded.

“I dunno about that,” he said, “those lashes hurt a bitch.”

“Please-” I shifted onto my knees, to grovel, for I cared not for my dignity, only for escape, but the swaying of the ship suddenly churned my stomach. I clasped a hand to my mouth as sweat beaded on my forehead.

“Here miss – bucket!” he grabbed a wooden pail and handed it me just in time to see the contents of last night’s supper emptied into it.

“First time on a ship?” he asked.

I nodded, wiping my mouth on the shoulder of my nightdress. My eyes watered and my throat burned.

“Got a touch of the sea jitters,” he said.

I vomited again. And again.

“Took me a few weeks to get over, when I first came aboard,” he added, oh so helpfully.

“Great,” I spluttered and my stomach heaved once more, I retched, but all that dribbled from my mouth was foul tasting bile. The acidic smell wafted up my nose as I leant my head back onto the cladding.

“I’ll fetch you some water, and some hard tack,” he said and disappeared behind the barrels.

My stomach mirrored every movement of the ship. My eyes watered as my skin burned, yet my body shivered as my blood turned to ice.

“Here-” the boy reappeared with a tankard of water and a cracker, “-small sips,” he said.

I did as instructed, and the water washed the taste of vomit from my lips. The saltine was hard and bitter, but my stomach settled a little as I swallowed it down.

“I don’t suppose you feel sorry for me now,” I said, “and will change your mind about sending me to the captain?”

“I’ll give you the day, aye,” he gave me a wink, “I’ll let you sleep this off tonight, but come tomorrow morning-” he said.

“Deal,” I quickly held out a hand for him to shake. He took it. His skin was rough, but his grip was strong.

“Stay well hidden though, and quiet like - you’re lucky I were the one to find you, a girl on board a ship of restless sailors-” he blew air from his lips.

“Restless?” I questioned.

“Err - Let’s just say - sailors aren’t known to be gentlemen,” he scratched his head.

“Oh,” I felt my cheeks redden.

“And watch for the rats – nasty cretins with fleas,” he said with all seriousness, which was strange considering his choice of companion.

“And what makes your rat any different from the rest?” I asked.

“I named him, miss,” he gave me another wink before disappearing amongst the cargo again. I stretched my neck to look where he had gone, but I couldn’t see him amongst the maze of barrels and crates.

***

The ship heaved on through choppy waters. Every footstep on the decks above, each muffled shout and sea lark call echoed between my ears. My head alternated between my knees and the bucket, whilst my mind told me all the ways in which I was an idiot for ever leaving dry land. The strange rat boy didn’t return until the sunlight was beginning to waver through the grate.

“Oh good, you’re still alive,” he smiled at me with surprisingly good teeth for a sailor boy, “I got you more hard tack, and water,” he said.

“You thought I might be dead?” I asked, taking the cracker and tankard from him.

“Well, it were a possibility - you don’t look built for sailing, and the rats are deadly,” he chuckled and it rocked my fragile brain. I narrowed my eyes at him as they flickered up his thin frame - his stained shirt hung from his shoulders like a bed sheet on the line.

“You’re just as scrawny as I,” I said.

“Yea, but there’s strength to my scrawn,” he winked, chuckling of course - why was he always laughing in such a way? When nothing was even funny? He lifted his shirt - sure enough, despite his small frame, his chest was dappled with muscles.

“And who’s to say I’m not hiding the same beneath my dress?” I asked.

“Experience?” Of course he chuckled, for he was always doing so, like a caged monkey pining for a banana.

“Experience in what?” I bit into the cracker, and stared into his blue eyes as I loudly chewed – smacking my lips together just to irritate him, like he was me.

“In knowing what’s under dresses,” his chuckle slipped to a snigger, seemingly unaffected by my disgusting manners.

“Oh - I see,” I said, letting the soggy crumbs fly from my lips as my cheeks reddened once more.

“Well, you might not be built like one, but you sure eat like a sailor, I’ll give you that!” There was that annoying sound. Again. Chuckle. Chuckle. Chuckle.

“Well you laugh like a wrinkled old man sat before a pond of ducks - one who’s gone in the head – senile and simply waiting for death to bring him the peace he so desperately craves,” I wiped the spit from my mouth.

“You talk funny,” he said. The chuckle was taunting me. It started with a hiss of his flaring nostrils, then the sound drifted from his throat - going up and down in a rhythmic drumming, yet somehow sounded out of tune. Like a low goat’s bleat or the caw of a bird – that was it - his chuckle reminded me of the crows that plagued the village back home - odious creatures that laughed at me, taunting from the treetops, only to swoop as I passed, causing me to stumble and panic.

“And you – rat boy, laugh all of the time, at everything - as if everything I say is so damn hilarious! Well it isn’t! I am not a jester! I am not here for your amusement!”

“Rat boy?” he stared at me in horror, as if the name plagued his suddenly saddened mind. I half expected a harrowing tale of a friend, chewed to death by rabid rodents whilst sleeping, but instead, the corners of his mouth began to flicker, and his serious eyes curled as he chuckled. At me. Again.

“WHAT IS SO FUNNY?” I bellowed.

I threw a hand to my mouth, to silence my rage, but the shout had already echoed up to the cargo hatch.

“Ooh, now you’ve done it, miss, I shant get no lashes for you,” rat boy said, snatching the half chewed cracker from my hand. Feeding it to his revolting pet, still perched on his shoulder, he grabbed the two mugs that lay next to me.

“I never helped you,” he whispered, tapping the side of his nose, before scurrying away like a rat himself.

Silence followed my shout. Even the sea larks had ceased their squawks. Grasping for the bucket, I threw up what little of the cracker I had eaten before tossing my head back against the wooden hull.

Heavy boots thudded across the deck above – they were on the stairs – closer, almost here - the door creaked open – one step – two – three.

As I cowered, knees to chest, a man built like a sea dragon peered over the barrels at me. It wasn’t the captain, no, he had sent a lackey to do his dirty work and throw me from the ship. Crude tattoos enveloped a bald head and badly healed scar from forehead to chin. Like beetles on a rotting corpse, blackened teeth crowded his mouth. Unlike rat boy, he was broad and his muscles bulged beneath his filthy shirt.

“Follow me,” he grunted and turned back to the stairs.

I did not want to go, for we were not far from Anshallia, we could still turn back and I wondered for a moment what he would do if I didn’t stand. But I did. Slowly – sliding up the wall for support, I grabbed a barrel as I stumbled. A hot flash ravished my body as sweat dripped from every crevice. My head drooped, heavy, as if it were filled with sodden woollen rags.

Hurry – I think he said - move – maybe, but my ears rang and my vision blurred – until I felt as if I were floating, except I wasn’t – I was sinking – down, down, down.

***

I woke sprawled across a wooden gilt settee, upholstered in velvet in what I assumed were the captain’s quarters, for only he could have such luxury amongst the filth of the ship.

“I’ve seen bad cases of sea jitters in my time, but none have been knocked out by it,” Captain Lott was sat at a large desk, his face illuminated by a single candle, set in a tray of sand, with a jug of water beside it.

I shuffled to sitting position, circling my temples to try to calm my pounding head.

“Impressed?” I asked with a tut.

“Not a bit, miss,” he set down his quill and retired from his paper work. The chair legs scratched on the wooden floor as he pushed himself away from the desk. Standing slowly, as if contemplating his next move, he traversed round the bulky furniture and handed me a silver goblet.

“What is it?” I took it from him, its odour wafting up my nose – nothing like I had smelt before – liquid death – or worse.

“Poison,” he said, his face showed no signs of a lie.

“And if I drink it?” I asked.

“You’ll die,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Without hesitation, I brought it to my lips and downed it. Every last drop. It was thick, but oddly sweet, tasting nothing of the pond water is resembled. I licked the remnants from my lips staring the captain straight in his blue eyes, and said nothing.

“It was just herbs from Chrisanton, it should help with the sickness” he shook his head, “you saw right through my little trick, ay?”

“No - you can keep a straight face quite well,” I said.

“Yet you drank it anyway?” he shook his head.

“I would rather die than be sent back, I have nothing to lose, and this proves it,” I slammed the goblet on his desk, “I would be the best sailor you’ve ever had, that I promise, just don’t send me back, please.”

“What’s so terrible in the dawn palace, I wonder?” he narrowed his eyes at me.

“You remember me?” I asked.

“Aye, that I do priestess, now tell me who, of what you run from.”

“I am not running from anything,” I said.

“Ah- now we get to it – where is it you’re running to?” he rubbed his stubbled chin.

“Wherever your ship is headed. It came with the dawn, the light of Ansha made your sails glow – it has called to me ever since, I could ignore it no longer,” I said.

“So this is a calling – some kinda pilgrimage? A religious mission?” he asked.

“No, that would require devoutness.”

“You don’t believe in your goddess?” he scoffed.

“I believe in her existence, I see the sunrise like any fool, but - I do not worship her. I do not worship any god. They are undeserving.”

“A bold statement,” he said.

“I think not.”

“You’ve renounced your faith?”

“I have stowed away aboard your ship, I regard that the same thing.”

“Many wouldn’t.”

“I care not what others think.”

“Indeed,” he looked me up and down. Yet another man trying to make me feel bad for my nightdress, but I stood tall, the buzz in my head finally subsiding, I planted my hands on my hips and glared at him, unashamed.

“You will let me stay-”

“Is that a question or a command?” he asked.

“I can pay, if I could only go back to the hull – fetch my pillowcase, and-” I paused. The captain reached behind himself and pulled my pillowcase from the floor, dumping it onto his desk. He gestured to it with a hand and expectant look.

Forced the knot open, I dug my hand inside. My birthday book was in the way. I pulled it out and placed it next to me, but before I could reach back inside my case, the captain had the book in his hands.

“Demarion, son of the sea,” he read the golden letters “perhaps this is why you have come? Fancy yerself a pirate, ay girl?”

“Give it back!” I tried to snatch it back, but he stepped backwards, opening it to the first page.

“‘I am Demarion, the last pirate of Athovan’s Isle and the following tale is all true-” he read aloud, “twaddle,” he said.

“It isn’t!” I lunged forwards and plucked it from his hands. Snapping it closed I stroked the cover and spine to check for damage.

“Tis - Demarion’s dead, so he didn’t write it himself, so how can it be true?” he asked.

“It still can be, perhaps it was written by a close companion,” I hugged it to my chest.

“Companion?” he laughed, “If he ever had a friend in this world, they be dead too, miss. No pirates left in Athovan.”

“It is a true account,” I said firmly and put it back in my pillowcase.

“Twaddle. No man can survive the belly of sea dragon.”

“A demi-god could – wait – you’ve read it?” I stared at him with sudden interest.

“Long voyages get boring – demi-god is it?” he snorted, “you’ll worship a half god but not a full one?”

“When did the gods last do anything as exciting as piracy?”

“Oh spoken like a true landlubber,” his voice flickered with anger, “Piracy is not an exciting adventure, miss, it’s horrific men doing horrific things, it is fire, it is death,” he stroked his left hand, and I noticed his skin bubbled and wrinkled, scarred from flame.

“You met him?” I asked quietly, hardly wishing for the answer, but still longing for it with all my heart.

“I had my dealings with Demarion,” he said, and from the look he shot me, I knew he would say no more on the subject, “I am yet to see this payment, unless the book was it? In which case, I’ll ready the plank,” he snarled.

“No,” I said, and from the pillowcase, I slowly pulled out my golden sun crown, handing it to him as if it were so delicate it would break.

“A crown?” he questioned, unimpressed.

“It’s solid gold,” I said, expecting a spark of excitement in his eyes.

“Miss, I have no use for gold,” laughing he tossed it onto the desk.

“But merchants love gold.”

“Not ones who have already made their fortune. That trinket would be just a drop in the ocean for me - I have been at sea since I were a baby. Every commodity from every island, has passed through these hands, I had fleets at my fingertips full of the finest silks, spices and wines. I have your common gold. Hordes of it. I sail now only for the love of it - land holds no peace for me. The crew trade to line their pockets, not mine.”

“Then keeping me on should mean nothing to you - you can afford another mouth to feed,” I said.

“There is a rule aboard ships, miss. Everyone must have their use. It’s not enough to be able to afford you, when you offer nothing in return. I am not your tour guide, this is not a holiday. We shall turn the ship around at first light.”

“No – wait-” I said, and pulled out one of the remaining things from my pillowcase. It was a towel, bundled into a ball. Laying it flat, I cautiously opened it, “I believe you may have use for these?” I asked.

The room grew brighter as I uncovered the stolen sun crystals. I watched for the captain’s reaction, ready to cling to any flicker of excitement or longing in his eyes, and there was plenty. He drew breath and immediately expelled it, extinguishing the single candle to nothing but a slither of smoke.

“Aye, that I do,” he whispered and reached out, picking one up, examining it closely. His eyes lit up, but not from the illuminated crystal, but from something else – something I couldn’t put my finger on. I had not seen that look before.

“You can have them all,” I said.

“You stole these?” he asked.

“No,” I lied.

“You’re lying. That other priestess said they weren’t to leave the island - that it would anger your goddess.”

“Fine, I stole them, do you want them or not?” I began to wrap them back up again, plunging the room into darkness, but he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

“I want them,” he said, “I want the light,” he whispered, opening the towel back up and illuminating the room once more.

“You do not fear Ansha’s wrath?” I asked mockingly.

“I’m merely accepting a gift, Ansha’s wrath will be with you, priestess, not I,” he spoke to me but his eyes wandered to the ceiling and he spoke louder, as if addressing someone far above us.

“I am no priestess,” I said.

“You took an oath.”

“And it was broken the moment I stepped off my island.”

“Oaths to gods are not so easily cast aside,” he glared at me.

“I don’t fear the gods,” I said defiantly.

“Then you’re a fool.”

“Can I can stay or not?” I asked.

“For now,” he went back to staring at the light emanating from the crystal in his grasp. He was transfixed by it, and I in turn, by him.

“Thank you,” I whispered, not wishing to disturb whatever it was that was spinning in his mind.

“But you are to stay in the hull, a passenger, not a sailor, more a prisoner to be released to dry land. Have Nero carry you back down, I cannot have you fainting on the stairs,” he waved a hand to signal for me to leave.

“I can find my own way back,” I said, grabbing my pillowcase.

“And I cannot guarantee your safety if you stumble and pass out in the sailor’s quarters,” he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Fine - as you wish,” I said and went to the door to find the black toothed man.

“Oh and welcome aboard - Priestess Aura wasn’t it?” he called after me.

“Mara. I am Mara.” I said, and opened the door with a click.