Daana descended the companionway from the orlop deck into the hold one tentative step at a time. She clutched the worn grab rail for dear life, cursing her vision for not making the transition from light to dark as fast as she needed it to. Steeper than a traditional stairway, the broad steps were built at a sharp fifty degree angle, sacrificing ease of use for utility. The descent wouldn’t have been nearly so bad had she brought a lantern, but such was the life of a fledgling spy.

Success meant learning to embrace the dark. Failure to do so was what separated the good spies from the dead ones. According to Ellisar, anyway–who, admittedly, may have just told her that simply to make Daana’s assignments harder than necessary. Then again, this so called-assignment very well could have been an excuse to remove Daana from the cabin for the rest of the evening.

No, not maybe. Daana realized as her face scrunched in disgust. It was definitely an excuse to get her out of the cabin for a few hours.

Gross.

The pungent stench of filthy straw and animal dung clogged the stale air. Daana drew the collar of her thin tunic over her mouth and nose to keep from gagging. Alas, aside from pulling the cloth up and over the rest of her head, there was little she could do to prevent the harsh, salty air from stinging her eyes. Daana blinked the tears from her vision as she placed each foot as softly as possible, careful not to betray her steps. She could see the hazy yellow light from an oil lantern flickering in the animal pens below.

A disembodied voice drifted upwards. The sound grated against Daana’s ears like broken ceramic scraping across tiled floors. “Who’s a good horsey-horsey-horsey? The best horsey? The smartest? That’s right, you are. You are!”

Daana threw the crook of her arm over her mouth, fighting to constrain her snorts of laughter. Fresh tears rolled down the sides of her sweat-soaked face–this time from a combination of hilarity and the pungent stench of animal dung currently burning the inside of her nose and lungs. She stopped and waited to regain her composure before continuing to sneak down the steep steps.

Daana reached the end of the creaky companionway and stepped soundlessly onto the straw-littered floor. Carefully, moving on just her tiptoes, she crept further into the dim hold, hugging the shadows along the curved wall. The animal pens were across from her. A familiar shape stood inside the nearest one, bathed in the warm yellow glow of the lantern hanging from the hook above him.

“That’s right,” Snag said, voice brimming with affection. “‘Cause you’re the best, aren’t you? Not like those stinky brats topside. You don’t ask anything of me, do you? No ‘go here, do this, fork over all your hard-earned coin’. That’s ‘cause you’re good horsey-horsey. Got manners, don’t you?”

The goblin continued smooshing Wormy’s whiskered face between his clawed hands, uttering soft praises under his breath. The small, scruffy horse grunted its appreciation as it bucked its head further into his hands, demanding more affection.

Oh gods, she was going to lose it. Daana’s ears burned hot against the musty air as she clamped both hands over her quivering mouth.

“Especially that elf brat,” Snag continued. “She’s the worst of ‘em all. Can’t even sneak down a ladder without hitting every squeaky step on the way down.”

Daana’s lower jaw tumbled open in disbelief. Again?

“Can you believe it, Wormy? A species supposedly gifted with grace and elegance, and that clodhopper can’t help but stomp everywhere she goes.”

Dammit! Daana had been so careful this time, too. She was certain she’d finally succeeded in catching the old goblin by surprise. With a disgruntled groan, she stalked out from her hiding place, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she shuffled into the flickering light. “How? I barely made a sound this time.”

“You did, I hardly noticed at all,” Snag agreed, still lavishing unsettling amounts of love and praise onto his favorite horse. “Silence doesn’t do you a lot of good when your smell sticks out like a sore tongue.”

Daana’s eyes widened. Instinctively, she lifted her arm for a quick pit check. “I don’t stink.”

“Exactly. But everything else does down here. You’re like the aromatic candle next to the shit pit. You stand out against the stench in a way that’s noticeable to everyone who had the misfortune of having the stewed cabbage for lunch.”

While it was a relief to learn she didn’t stink, Daana wasn’t so sure how she felt about Snag’s vivid comparison. She trudged over to the short pen, kicking at a loose tuft of straw on her way. “I’m going to get you one of these days. Just wait and see.”

“Of course you will,” he replied, tone dripping like sticky-sweet sap. “I’ll probably be deaf and blind from old age by then, but what does that matter? The important thing is that you’ll have done it. And then I can finally die at peace, knowing I taught one thing.”

Daana knew better than to bait him with protest. She snagged one the apples from the burlap bag hanging from the tack hook instead, content to eat her feelings away. Her teeth sank into the peel with a crunch–not the pleasant, fresh kind either, but the sort of sound made when stepping on a snail. The mealy flesh disintegrated over her tongue, filling her mouth with the foul taste of overripe melon.

Snag swiveled his head around at her. His wrinkled expression went from lovey-dovey to foul in the span of a single breath. “You thankless thief! Spit that out! Apples are for horsies, not terrible sneaky sneakers.”

Daana’s gaze dropped to the open burlap sack hanging from the hook tack. She didn’t have any desire to finish the unpalatable fruit, but the old instinct to do the opposite of what she was told was suddenly alive and well. She forced herself to take another bite, speaking around the mouthful of sad apple. “Is it really stealing if you stole all this in the first place?”

“I’ll have you know I purchased that,” Snag said, with the sort of venom in his voice that suggested he was more upset about forking over good silver than he was at being accused of theft. “We all agreed, no bad behavior while on the blasted boat. It draws too much attention.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” Daana chewed thoughtfully for a moment. While tensions had simmered between her and Snag since the awkward heart-to-heart from a few days before, it probably would have been wise not to push her luck. Unfortunately, the temptation to poke the proverbial bear was one she simply could not ignore.

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She heaved herself up onto the half wall that made up the front of the animal pen. “Does that mean I should put back that spyglass I found in the navigation room?”

“What were you doing in the navigation room?”

“...Not snooping?”

The goblin shook his head at her, earrings jangling against one another softly. “I hardly even recognize you anymore. What happened to that sweet summer child who used to cry when told to clean the rabbits for dinner?”

Daana forced down another disappointing bite of apple. “Correction, I still cry when you make me do that. I’m just more subtle about it now.”

“Hear that, Wormy? She’s still a softie when no one’s lookin’. That’s sweet, innit? Not as sweet as you, though. Nope, nobody’s as sweet as you. ‘Cause you’re the best horsie. Aren’t you? Aren’t you?” Snag said with the sort of fondness in his voice that made Daana want to shudder. It wasn’t the open display of affection itself that was odd, but the fact that it was coming from Snag–someone who dedicated a good deal of energy convincing others that he had no soft side.

Snag selected a stiff bristled brush from a bucket on the floor and set about scrubbing Wormy’s tusks with vigor. “Grab that other brush and start giving his coat a good once over.”

Daana remained sitting on the half wall, her legs dangling over the side of the stockyard pen. The musty smell of damp hay and animal dung was a lot stronger now that she was sitting directly above it. “Not happening,” she said. “Your beast nipped me in the butt last time I got near him.”

“Probably ‘cause you keep munching his apples.”

Daana opened her mouth to deliver an equally scathing reply when the ship lurched with a sudden, thunderous boom, knocking her from her perch. Her hands shot out in front of her as she spilled towards the ground. Pain surged up her wrists as she struck the deck in a half crouch, saving herself from what could have been a nasty tumble. The ship’s timbers rattled like old bones as decades of dust and debris rained down from the low-hanging rafters. Above, muffled by several floors, Daana could just make out the sounds of screaming and footsteps pounding against the upper deck. She looked to Snag, realizing he wore a terrified expression similar to her own.

“That was a powder charge,” Daana said, not because it was helpful, but because stating the obvious might prompt Snag into saying something more helpful than what she had to offer. She gathered herself into a crouch, not bothering to wipe the filth that clung to her clothes.

The goblin watched the ceiling, his ears fanned wide and flicking from side to side, listening. “I warned Ellisar under pain of dismemberment not to use those unless it was an absolute emergency.”

The clamor was growing louder. Daana kept her voice low so as not to disturb whatever it was going on above them. “There’s always the chance she did it anyway.”

“I wish that were the case, but it sounds like we might be in trouble. What kind of weapons do you got on you?”

Her hands flung out to her sides defensively. “You said not to carry any weapons! Draws too much attention.”

“I said to make it look like you weren’t carrying any weapons. Not to forgo them completely!” As if to prove his point, Snag withdrew two hidden daggers from wherever they’d been hidden on his person. He noticed her staring and hid them behind his back, out of reach. “Nah, you gotta learn your lesson the hard way. Go on. Find something to arm yourself with, quick like.”

With a shake of her head, Daana darted across the straw-littered ground. The livestock pens were located just off of the cargo hold, a depressing distance away from the arms locker, unfortunately. While she wouldn’t find a proper sword or shield anywhere nearby, there was a decent collection of equipment stored in the tool area. She yanked a rusted pitchfork from the wall and tested its weight in her hands. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

Just in time, too. Fast footsteps came pounding down the stairs, proceeding the three weathered-looking individuals that burst into the cramped hold. The lead goblin pointed her curved saber at Daana and shouted something too loud to understand. It sounded like Laftak, the language of the flatlands, but the dialect was a far cry from the formal conversations Daana had learned back at the academy.

Daana tilted her head at the grizzled intruder. “What?”

The goblin repeated herself with as much success as her previous attempt.

Shrugging, Daana replied in Laftak the best way she knew how. The goblin stopped shouting and stared back at her unblinkingly. The two ruffians behind her, a rather scrawny looking elf and what might have been a human, exchanged confused glances.

“Did you just tell her where the fucking library is?” Snag said.

Daana shrugged. “I thought that’s what she was asking.”

“They’re pirates, girl. They want us to surrender quietly so they can hold us for ransom and all that crap.”

“Oh. Well in that case, forget I said anything.” Daana’s feet shifted into the fighter’s stance that had been hammered into her after many, many painful training sessions. None of the pirates had a bow, fortunately. Just swords and various other sharp, stabby implements of death. Most of which Daana was certain she could outrun if necessary.

For several seconds, the trespassers continued to stare at her in varied stages of bewilderment. “Snag,” Daana shouted over her shoulder, “why aren’t they attacking?”

“No offense, but I think they were expecting us to surrender. You an’ I don’t exactly have the look of warriors, you know.”

With an infuriated scream, the goblin pirate waved her sword at her companions. Spurred back into action, the trio split. The goblin and elf advanced in Daana’s direction while the third went for Snag. Daana couldn’t help but feel slightly flattered by that. Sure, Snag may not have been armed with a super menacing pitchfork, but they obviously took her for the more accomplished fighter.

Idiots.

They had no idea what sort of mistake they’d just made. She’d witnessed Snag disarm someone with a spoon once. It involved jamming it in their eye socket, which even the thought of still made her a little queasy, but it was a memorable death nonetheless.

A shrill scream from the other side of the stock pens alerted Daana that Snag’s opponent had already met their gruesome end. There wasn’t time to double check, however. Daana charged, brandishing her pitchfork like a spear. The goblin stepped out of the way in time but the elf was a hair too slow. The prongs scraped along his ribcage, ripping a hole into his tunic that ran red with blood when Daana tugged her rusty weapon free.

She spun in time to block a blow from the goblin’s sword. The pitchfork’s wood handle shuddered violently between her hands as the strikes rained down. Daana saw her opening, ducked to the side and kicked, sending her smaller opponent sprawling. She had just enough time to recover before the elf lunged at her, screaming unknown obscenities. To be honest, even if Daana was fluent in the language, it would have been difficult to make out what he was saying over the sound of thundering hoofbeats.

Hoofbeats?

Daana looked just in time to jump out of the way. Wormy reared, striking down the elf with his front legs and then landed on top of him with a bone-crunching slam.

“Get on!” Snag shouted.

Still clutching her trusty pitchfork, Daana swung her leg over the side of Wormy and had just enough time to grab onto the back of Snag before the little horse took off again. She used all the strength in her legs to hold on as Wormy picked up speed. It was like riding a furry, temperamental barrel. “Snag,” she screamed over the sounds of the horse, “slow down, we’re going to run out of ship!”

“We’re taking the stairs.”

“Horses can’t climb!”

“Hush, girl! I’m hoping Wormy doesn’t know that!”