Guild Wars: Sea of Sorrows (2 page)

The tavern keeper gripped the back of Cobiah’s belt, hauling him out the door and onto the street. “Don’t care.” A grin spread across his features, showing long rows of sharp alligator teeth. “My tavern don’t need somebody that sweeps the floor
after
the patrons show up.” The gruff man’s malicious snarl never faltered. “You’re fired.”

Cobiah paled. “Jacob . . . you can’t do this to me. I need this job.” He folded his hands together, begging, though hesitation replaced the friendliness in his eyes. “C’mon. I get it, you’re strong-arming to scare me straight. Let me in, and I’ll sweep up now, and tonight, too. Without pay.” Wheedling, Cobiah reached for the broom inside the doorway, but Jacob grabbed his wrist so hard that he bruised Cobiah’s flesh.

“
I don’t care!
I’m tired of it, Cobiah. I’m done.” The man’s angry glare softened. “I know yer family’s got it rough, boy, but I can’t make no allowances. I got a bar to run.” Cobiah started to argue again, but Jacob thrust him back, releasing the youth’s wrist with a forceful shove. Jacob growled, “Now get goin’ before I cuff ya!”

People on the street were staring, judging Cobiah with stern, unforgiving eyes. Someone brushing past muttered, “Lazy skale. Shiftless layabout!” Others shook their heads or whispered in mocking tones. A woman in a rich gown cast the pale-haired youth a glance that could have
boiled eggs as she swept past. Cobiah didn’t bother to argue. He’d been called worse.

It was as much as he could do to keep his face straight and his jaw square as he slunk away from the dockside bar. Jacob’s laughter rang mockingly in Cobiah’s ears, but it was nothing compared to what was ahead of him. He’d lost his job. The
Indomitable
was leaving port, so the extra money from loading the galleon would vanish, too. Few other ships were willing to trust a street kid to heft valuable cargo. There was little work in the crowded city of Lion’s Arch, and with no real skills or training in a craft, Cobiah was completely adrift. Just six silver coins in his pocket, all his prospects in ruins, and now he had to return home and explain it all . . . to
her
.

The populace of Lion’s Arch hustled about their lives, ignoring the tow-haired youth wandering dejectedly through its cobbled streets. The city hadn’t lost any of its beauty; sunlight glistened on the waters of Lion’s Bay from the sandy cliffs of Lion’s Gate through the strait of Claw Island, illuminating soft white waves in the distant Sea of Sorrows. White sails hovered on the horizon like wave foam. He could hear bells ringing in the harbor, signaling the passing of ships in and out of dock. None of it meant anything to Cobiah.

Yet despite the lost, desperate feeling, Cobiah couldn’t stop a smile from creeping to his lips at the sight of the most beautiful thing in the city. It wasn’t a sculpture or one of the magnificent buildings. It wasn’t sunlight, or sea waves, or even glittering gold. It was a little girl, squatting in the gutters outside Hooligan’s Route, playing with an earthworm that wriggled in the muddy dirt. She looked up at Cobiah with eyes the color of a clear summer sky. “Coby!” the four-year-old squealed, her grubby face breaking into a wide smile of joy. Leaving the worm
to its own devices, the little girl dove into Cobiah’s arms, wrapping her hands around his neck as if to climb right up onto his shoulders.

Cobiah laughed and whirled her about. She giggled, careful not to drop her faded rag doll. Though its yarn hair had worn to threadbare patches and its dress was little more than a dyed bit of burlap, the little girl cradled it close as he held her to his chest. “Heya, Bivy-bear. Sleep well?”

His sister didn’t answer at first. Instead, she pushed her dolly into Cobiah’s hand. “Kiss for Polla?” Cobiah obediently gave the dolly a kiss on its forehead and handed it back to the girl. Only then did she reply softly, “No.” The little girl pouted, lower lip jutting out like a slice of ripe plum. “I had night-horses.”

“Nightmares, Biviane?” Cobiah bounced his sister lightly, watching her pale curls tremble across her chubby, dirt-stained cheeks. She clutched his neck tightly and laid her head on Cobiah’s shoulder. In her hand, the dolly’s stitched lips smiled prettily, and her button eyes matched Biviane’s, for all that they stared out of a weary-looking yarn head.

“I dreamed there was a monster outside. Polla was scared. I tried to sing a little song to make her feel better, but . . . that made Mama yell.” Biviane sighed heavily, kicking her feet in exasperation. “Mama took Polla away and put her in the dark place.”

Cobiah’s blood ran cold. “Polla went into the dark place?” he asked carefully. “Just Polla. Not you, Bivy. Right?”

Biviane lay her head on his shoulder, curls tumbling down onto Cobiah’s chest. In a small voice, she whispered, “Not me. I was very, very quiet, and Mama let me sleep.” A pause. “This time.”

A breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding eased out of Cobiah’s lungs. “Good girl.” His hair lay against hers along the curve of his shoulder, matching like two skeins of the same thread. It was probably a good thing that Biviane couldn’t see his expression, for it took him several moments to get it under control. At last, with infinite care, he lowered his sister to the ground. “Here.” He forced a happy smile onto his lips. With a wink, Cobiah drew a silver coin from his pocket. He held it up, giving it a flourish so that the metal sparkled in the sun. “Do you know where I got this?”

Biviane clutched her dolly close to her chest and opened her rosebud mouth with awe. She shook her head, eyes wide, staring at the money.

Cobiah let the coin dance over his fingers. “See those big masts out at the last dock? That’s the
Indomitable
. She’s got three masts and three decks, and a hundred guns on each side. The king of Kryta built that ship himself, and she’s the finest one on the sea!”

Biviane stared out over his arm, glancing back and forth between white sails and yellow gold. “That’s King Baede’s ship?”

“His biggest one. And it’s a sight to see. It could fit a hundred soldiers on it, and still have room for fifteen houses, a thousand cats . . .” He smiled to see her mouth purse into a little O of astonishment. “And Polla, too.”

“Wow.” Her eyes were big and trusting. “And you were on that ship?”

“I was. I was helping to load it last night, and while I was putting a crate in the hold, I looked out of a porthole at the sea. Do you know what I saw there?” Cobiah leaned in close and whispered in Biviane’s ear. “A
mermaid
.”

The little girl’s blue eyes grew as wide as china plates. “A real one?”

“Yes, indeed. She’d come to see the king’s galleon. She had green scales from her shoulders to the tip of her tail, and she wore a dress made out of kelp and pearls. Her eyes were pale, like stars on the water, and her hair looked
just like yours
.” Cobiah tugged gently on a curl as Biviane giggled. “She said I was so handsome that she wanted to take me to the bottom of the ocean and keep me for her very own. But I told her that I wouldn’t leave my sister for the whole wide world.” He shook his finger teasingly. “Then she told me she’d give me some of her treasure if I gave her something in return. And do you know what she wanted?”

“A kiss!” Biviane breathed.

“I did, and she gave me this piece of silver. Now that I’ve told you the story, little miss, I’ll make you the same deal. If you give me a kiss, it’ll be yours.”

With a gasp, Biviane threw her hands around Coby’s neck and kissed him on both cheeks, giggling. Hugging his sister tightly, Cobiah pressed the coin into her palm.

“Did you really see a mermaid, Cobiah? A really-real one?” Biviane squealed, and her face glowed with delight. Cobiah couldn’t help hugging her again, breathing in the warm scent of his sister’s hair.

“Go get some breakfast, Bivy. And buy a piece of candy for Polla. I have to talk to Mom.” Cobiah set the girl down on her feet and waved to one of the sailors passing by. “Romy? Are you headed into town?”

“Aye, young Cobiah. What can I do you for?”

“Can you take my sister to the muffin cart and help her pick out a nice sweet one? She’s not allowed to go into the city alone.” Cobiah smiled at the old man.

“Why, of course I can.” Romy smiled, his green eyes adrift amid a sea of wrinkles and white beard. “C’mon, little lass. Ooh, is that your dolly? What’s her name?”

“Polla!” Biviane said, taking Romy’s hand trustingly. She turned to look back over her shoulder. “I love you, Coby!” she squealed. “I’ll see you soon!” With a leap, she followed the old man, clutching her rag doll close to her chest. Cobiah straightened, watching his sister dance along the sand at the edge of the row of houses. Romy headed for the vendors at the docks, just a little ways down past where the big ships were moored, chattering happily to the little girl all the while.

Cobiah watched as the two vanished into the press of people moving back and forth on the pier. Even after she was gone, he stood there, imagining that he could still see her bouncing golden curls here and there among the crowd. Finally, with a sigh, Cobiah turned toward the shanty and headed inside.

The rotted door swung gently on ruined hinges. Inside the dark, filthy hut, the smell of tar and whiskey hung on foul air. The window glass was cracked and clogged with spiderwebs, and its wooden floor was thick with grime. The hut was composed of one choked-looking room. A faded red-and-blue rug lay dejectedly on the mud-and-slat-board floor. It was wrinkled and limp, looking very much as if it had died trying to crawl to freedom. The room’s central table tottered in uncertain balance, tilting precariously on three warped legs and a half leg resting on a rusted bucket. In the rear of the cottage stood a large bed behind a wide, withered-looking threefold screen of paper.

The only bright spot in the little shanty was a trail of thin pink ribbons on a rickety-looking ladder. They’d been woven in lumpy braids by uncertain fingers, and hung down in tatters like tiny banners. The ladder, its rungs half-rotten and dripping wooden flakes onto the floor, led to a thin ledge tucked under the roof of the hut,
where a flat, musty-smelling mattress of reeds had been shoved into the nook, covered by a small, faded quilt.

A harsh throttling noise shook the shoddy boards of the cabin. Cobiah jumped within his skin, unable to control an instinctive wash of revulsion. He steeled himself and stepped inside. Across the rickety table lay a woman, her snores echoing so loudly that they shook a trio of empty glasses arrayed on the board. Her hair was pale gray with care and years but bleached and tinted to give it a sickly echo of its original yellowish cast. Wrinkles clustered like vultures around her eyes, and her teeth were gray like stones. She snored again, choking on her breath, and absently mopped at her crooked nose with one half-aware hand.

Cobiah crept into the room warily. He gulped, unwilling to wake her, and fingered the five silver pieces left in his pocket. Maybe he could give them to her and leave, go find another job in the city. Making leather, maybe, down at the tannery . . .

The woman snorted, choking, and turned her head to spit a thick mass onto the floor. She peeled one bloodshot eye open to regard Cobiah. Grunting, the woman lurched upward in her chair and fixed him with a nasty gaze. “Filthy, useless boy. Why are you standing there like a gape-jawed idiot?” she snarled, muffling a belch. “Give me my money!” Her eyes were sharp and cold, deeply bloodshot and staying open due more to anger than to interest. She pawed at him greedily, hand snatching out like a hunting bird trying to catch a mouse.

“Yes, Mother.” Biting his lip, he quelled the waver in his voice. Cobiah held out the five silver coins.

With a snarl, she snatched them from him. She peered at the coins in her palm and then held one up, fingers pinching the metal skeptically. Cheeks purpling, she
growled, “Only five? There should be at least eight. Are you hiding money again, Cobiah?” She said the last words so strongly that a chill ran up Cobiah’s spine.

Clearing his throat, he managed to say, “I never had more than six. I gave one to Biviane, so she could get breakfast—”

“You
what
?” Cobiah’s mother lunged forward, rising to her feet between chair and table. Clumsy with the leftover effects of drink and sluggish sleep, she raised her hand and struck him to the ground. “That girl doesn’t need breakfast—she’s fat enough! She’s like a little gutter pig. Wish I could sell her like a pig . . .” The drunken woman stood over him and scowled. “Bah, you lazy boy. Just like your father. Every day I thank the Six Gods for the storm at sea that drowned him. Wish one would come and take you, too! Useless, hopeless . . . worthless!” With each exclamation, she struck him, kicking him broadly as he lay curled on the floor. “You hear me? You’re worth nothing! I should have drowned you myself, when you were small . . .” He could smell the rotten alcohol on her breath, feel the mud from her shoes falling on him in chunks. For a moment he wanted to fight back, rage flaring up and causing his hands to clench so hard that he could feel the curves of his fingernails splitting his palms. But he couldn’t fight. If he did, she’d just take it out on Biviane. Forcing himself to lie still, Cobiah accepted each stinging slap and fierce, degrading kick.

“Cobiah!” Suddenly, a frantic shout from outside drew their attention, causing her hand to pause in the air. “Cobiah! Come quickly! Biviane’s hurt!” Romy’s voice, cracked with stress and fear.

At the sound of his sister’s name, Cobiah pushed himself up and scrambled toward the shanty door, the coins—and the beating—forgotten. His mother was less quick to
respond, her liquor-addled mind struggling to grasp the meaning of the words. He could hear her behind him, still yelling, as Cobiah darted out onto the street.

The air held a bitter tang of fish and sea-stained nets, but the sky was still bright with morning. Cobiah spun about, fixing his eyes on Romy. The aged sailor was standing in the plaza, yelling as loud as his old lungs would allow. The man’s face was white, his hands cupped around his mouth. “Cobiah, hurry! I only took my eyes off Bivy for a moment—just a moment, I swear it. She said she wanted to see a mermaid. I don’t know what she meant, but she went a-running, and she’s such a snippet of a girl, I couldn’t keep up with her in the crowd—”