Chapter 6: It’s Bisque

“Beetle!” A cheerful voice squealed and before the warrior knew it, a small boy was leaping onto her bed of rags. He had dusky brown hair like his parents and was a pale complexion long since freckled by the seaward sun. With a thump he landed on Beetle and a bright crescent smile broke across her face. She gave him a squeeze before rolling to her feet.

“Let our guest get up on her own energies, Charles,” the boy’s mother, a brunette Lynfairish woman by the name of Brenna, chided. Beetle’s little nest was tucked in the corner of the sitting room of the plaster home, a small but cozy area of chairs that overlooked the fireplace on one end and the way to the kitchen and dining area on the other. By all means, Brenna and her husband Gareg were not struggling on Perdi, but could be counted as a family of moderate wealth made from Gareg’s partnership with three fishing vessels. The tall building even had an upstairs which served as the sleeping quarters of the family.

The generosity of Brenna’s family was not lost on Beetle this past week, and in spite of her ability to offer them nothing but labor, they didn’t make a single move to kick her back to the streets. It put a cozy grin on Beetle’s face. She wasn’t sure if she had experienced this level of compassion when she was Rewe de la Hache, but she certainly never did as Beetle.

“Mar Brenna,” Beetle piped up in the formal fashion, having learned from Charles the clever little honorifics of the islands. Brenna was just outside the sitting room, still in view, but attending to the pot on a closed stove which dominated the kitchen and dining area.

“Yes?” Brenna glanced over her shoulder, but kept her attention to the pot. Beetle could make out a smile on her face. “You’re not going to thank me again, are you?”

Beetle stretched and looked down at her clothes. The thick linens of a dock worker covered her bruised form. “What if I was?” Her voice was quiet. The anger that usually laced her tone seemed subdued for now.

“I’d say it’s pointless,” Brenna laughed. “Thank me as many times as you want, you know I would have still taken you in. It’s the way of Iac to be generous without counting.” The woman turned to regard Beetle entirely. “Will you be helping Gareg today?”

“Yes,” Beetle answered immediately.

Brenna nodded at a wooden bowl. “Then grab some breakfast, you’re going to need it.”

***

The dock air was mild and salty. Very little wind was coming off of the blue waters that morning, and the chatter of gulls mixed with the shouts of dock workers and the clambering of tools. Gareg and his partners owned a good portion of the wooden dock, and in particular had a warehouse and a dry dock for ship maintenance. While some other days of work under Gareg included organizing the warehouse and hauling things to and from the boats, today had a special task, one that was introduced by Gareg’s overeager face. He was tanned dark from the sun and his friendly nature stamped an ever smile on his cheeks. His white linens were as pure as his intentions and no matter how smudged he or his clothes were from work, he was happy. Beetle learned one truth, however; Gareg’s joy increased thricefold whenever a difficult task was upon them.

“Mar Gareg…” Beetle started slowly. The two stood in the dry dock, where one of the shipping vessels was suspended on thick timbers, exposing the underside of the boat to the air. It was a beat up hull, fit with barnacles and marred wood.

Gareg’s smile grew. “Mar, huh? You’re learning the old ways of the island quickly! Very good!” He clapped his rough hands. “Now we show respect to our vessel, Mar Maria!”

Beetle cocked her head, but before she could ask, a sanding block was slapped into one of her hands, and a chisel into the other. Gareg pointed his own chisel at the hull, taking a stance not unlike a commander at arms. “Today, we rid Maria of her barnacles and prepare her for refitting.”

Though Beetle couldn’t remember a time she had ever done this, a deep set instinct inside her told her that Rewe hated doing this. Gareg must have seen the distress on Beetle’s face, because his smile grew wider and he slapped her back playfully, pushing her forward a step. “Busy hands ruin idle minds. Trust me, Mar Beetle, work will cool your mind.”

“You think so?” Beetle’s voice came harsher than intended, but Gareg didn’t seem to mind. The warrior closed her eyes and forced a smile. “Sorry Mar Gareg, that’s not how I wanted to say that.”

“No heed, no mind,” Gareg waved it away, but before he could bring his chisel to the first barnacle, one of his workers, a tall man by the name of Umbel came running into the workshop with a piece of paper flapping in his hands.

“Mar Gareg!” He huffed, face purple with exhaustion. “Look!” He slapped the paper to the side of the boat, spreading it for both Gareg and Beetle to read. It was a poster advertising the Yenellii arena. If Beetle’s blood froze at the name of the arena, what it was advertising sent it aflame with anxiety. Gareg’s demeanor changed too, his smile curled into a rare scowl as he read the poster outloud. “Your Duchess Maelys presents at the Yenellii Arena: the Infamous Rewe de la Hache versus the beasts led by Diamond the Magnificent.”

Beetle’s eyes read the rest of the poster, specifically, “will the evil Rewe be able to defeat the beasts before they devour Crocodile and his allies?”

“Pox!” Umbel swore, and Gareg closed his eyes, as if swallowing his own anger.

“Do you know Diamond?” Beetle asked on instinct.

“I know Rewe de la Hache!” Gareg’s anger broke free for a moment. Beetle shrunk in place. Umbel clenched his jaw.

“Who doesn’t? We used to have six ships, you know? And…” Umbel’s brow knit. “To think while I pain away at remembering it all, she is playing gladiator for that rotten Duchess.”

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Beetle was silent. She never told Gareg or his family who she was, just that she was a runaway from the arena. Taking a step back, the warrior cleared her throat. “Is Rewe really that awful?” Her voice cracked, knowing how ridiculous the question was after hearing Umbel’s story.

Gareg chewed his cheek. “That’s enough talk of that creature. Busy hands ruin idle minds.” He held up his chisel.

Umbel nodded. “Aye.”

“Would she ever leave a friend?” Beetle found herself asking quietly, not unlike a child. The yellow eyes of Crocodile flashed in her mind.

“What friends?” Umbel answered, summoning a glare from Gareg.

Beetle swallowed hard. “I know Crocodile.”

The two workers gave Beetle a soft glance. “When you were a captive?”

“Yeah,” Beetle answered. “He was nice to me.”

Umbel shook his head. “Shame, then. The beasts-”

“Don’t say horrible things,” Gareg cut Umbel off. “The last thing Mar Beetle needs is grief.”

Gareg’s compassionate glance was wasted on Beetle. The warrior shuffled past the two and slammed her chisel into the side of the boat. With a silence visage that spoke of no emotion, Beetle worked hard against the barnacles. Gareg and Umble clamored to join her, but as time whittled on, Beetle’s pace never slackened, her eyes ice on her task.

Maybe Rewe hated this work, but Beetle would do it for those who showed her generosity, the Warrior thought. Maybe Rewe didn’t have friends but— With a slip, Beetle’s knuckle gashed across a barnacle. Yelping, Beetle stuck her knuckle into her mouth and sucked on the cut. Red spread on her teeth. “Shit.”

Gareg glanced at her, but instead of smiling, he wore a cautious face.

***

Beetle sat awake in her nest of blankets. Her knees were pulled against her chest and she stared into the opaque darkness of the kitchen. Upstair, nothing was stirring and outside, only the rare footsteps of some vagabond sounded against the brickway. A cold ocean breeze was snaking through the alleys, finishing the scene with a hollow whisper, a sound counter to the raging screams of Beetle’s mind.

The poster was a trap. It didn’t take the infamous Rewe de la Hache to figure that one out, even a Beetle would suffice, but at the same time, it was a good one. Rewe would just let it go, not give it a second thought, at least Beetle figured. It was ballsy of the Duchess to assume that Beetle wouldn’t do the same as Rewe, but it was clever. The warrior bit her thumb. She couldn’t let Crocodile suffer because of her. She couldn’t let anyone else suffer because of her. Unknown sins weighed on her mind.

A footstep. Beetle twisted on her bed to see Gareg stepping into view from the shadows of the stairway. “Mar Gareg?” Beetle whispered.

“Mar Beetle.” A dim, weak smile greeted her. “I had a thought.”

“That couldn’t wait until morning?” Beetle blinked, her gut churning anxiously; did he figure it out?

“I was thinking, I’ve been enjoying your company so much, I never thought to offer you a way off the island,” Gareg settled down next to Beetle. “One of the boats is heading close to the coast of Farroux on its next journey, leaving in the morning. I figured, if you wanted a way home, that could do.”

Beetle’s brow furrowed. “You’re not kicking me out, are you?”

Gareg shook his head. “Never. You’ve been a good guest, should you want to stay, well I could set you up at the warehouses and hire you for wages, but I had a feeling that I should at least offer. Do you want a way out?”

Silence hung between the two for a moment before Beetle cracked a sad grin of her own. “Did you know I was leaving tonight?”

“I could see it in the way you worked,” Gareg answered.

“So I have a way out,” Beetle droned. A sigh. “A way out, easy, free.”

Gareg’s own brow furrowed now. “I admit, Mar Beetle, I’m starting to have a thought that is rather frightening.”

Beetle blinked, eyes readjusting on her benefactor’s face. “If I told you that I’m refusing both your offers, would that settle the thought.”

Gareg looked away for a moment before slowly nodding. “I think it might.”

Forcing a shallow, hush laugh, Beetle tried to hide the burn behind her eyes, the wetness forming. “Then rest easy, I’m refusing you.”

Gareg still wasn’t looking at her. “No way to convince you to take my offers, huh?” It was said as if in jest, but pain was in every word. Beetle stole a glance down, his hands were in tight fists.

“No,” Beetle answered. “In fact, I’m leaving now.”

“A shame,” Gareg was looking in the darkness. “Well you know my door if you ever need me or my family again. We are here for you, Mar Beetle.” The words were hollow, save for the warmth the man placed in Beetle’s name.

“Tell Charles that I’ll miss him,” Beetle stood up.

Gareg ventured a glance at Beetle. They were stuck eye to eye, shimmer to shimmer. “He will be in tears,” Gareg said flatly. Beetle stood up at that but before she could get more than a few steps into the kitchen, Gareg called out in a hushed voice.

“Take that bundle by the counter, Brenna saw it made for you. It’s bisque.”

Beetle lifted the fabric bundle, feeling the jars underneath. “Thanks.”

“Since she’s asleep,” Gareg hushed even more. “I’ll say it for her: Iac watch you.”

Beetle nodded in silence, not even sure if Gareg could see the movement. She idled for a moment and then with a burst of anxious energy, she swiftly opened the kitchen door to the outside world and closed it behind her.

A purple midnight rose above the tall buildings of Perdi and as Beetle stood there in the wind of the night, she knew a chance at peace lingered behind her, but then, it was a peace that only Rewe de la Hache would have taken. Beetle put a foot forward, one step closer to the Duchess’ trap, and one step closer to saving her only friend.

Her voice was swept into a seaborn breeze. “I’m coming, Crocodile.”