Nobody Likes Fairytale Pirates (18 page)

If it bothered her, she never gave
any indication.  True, she might deliberately shake free of him on occasion if
she was angry at him, but that didn’t seem to be because she objected to him
putting his arm around her, it was more like… his punishment.

One day, he really hoped to find an
excuse to touch her hair.

She had such beautiful hair and
he’d desperately wanted to run his fingers through it since the first moment
he’d ever seen her.  It was so smooth and shiny and dark.  It fell past her
shoulders, like a thick wave of black silk tumbling down her back.  It had the
clean, soft fragrance of everything in the world he wanted and found
desirable.  And it was always there, teasing him with its forbidden presence,
hidden under the hood of her tattered grey poncho.

He very, very rarely even got a
chance to see it.  Whenever she had the hood down or let her hair fly free, it
felt… intimate to him.  He wasn’t sure why he found it so erotic, he just did.

Uriah spent a good portion of every
day trying to come up with some excuse to run his hands through his partner’s
hair.  Sadly, it was a surprisingly difficult action to rationalize.  He
couldn’t exactly claim that it was to help her navigate in any way, like he
could when he put his arm around her, and short of taking up the hairdressing
profession, he couldn’t think of a plausible justification.

So, once again, he tried to think
about anything else.

Behind them, Ryle stopped on the
sidewalk to look at graffiti scrawled on one of the walls in red paint, because
he was a child who got distracted easily.  “’Who lit Bonnie’s dress?’”  He read
aloud, then turned back to them.  “What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s the Feast of Burning Kings.
There’s a rumor the queen’s dress started the fire.”  Ransom told him
uninterestedly.  “People can’t seem to let the end of the world go.”  She
snorted in dismissal.  “You’d think they’d be over it by now.”

“To be fair, the start of any
apocalypse tends to be memorable.”  Uriah chimed in.  “It’s just when the world
staggers on as a postscript and stubbornly refuses to conclude, like it
currently is, that you’d ordinarily expect people to begin to lose interest.”

“But stuff like that is written on
walls in every kingdom now.”  Ransom finished for him.

“You’ve been away from society for
a while, Swab.”  Uriah agreed.  “Even in places not currently under siege by an
evil army, such as Adithia, things aren’t going so good.  Paranoia and insanity
are now the universal rule of the land, convincing everyone that their world is
filled with hidden intrigues and dangerous machinations.  The whole world is
afraid.”

“They should be.”  Ransom
pronounced.

“So I’ve often said.  But people
like a good conspiracy, have you noticed that?  I suppose it’s just easier to
blame some unseen force for your misfortunes than it is to blame yourself, or to
try to comprehend the truly random nature of life and ‘destiny.’”  Uriah
shrugged.  “Personally, I really don’t see the need for some vast secret to
explain all those rulers dying in that fire though.”  He rolled his eyes.  “’Rich
people are just as flammable as poor,’ as my mum used to say.”

“Seems like advice which would have
very limited applicability in life.”  Ransom observed.

“Not if you knew my mother.”

Ryle paused to examine a statue of
a pretty woman with outstretched arms.  “Hey, who’s ‘Karen’ and why is she
going to save them?”  He inquired.  “She… looks kind of familiar.”

“Who are we?”  Ransom snapped. 
“Your fucking tour guides now?”

Uriah heaved a long-suffering sigh
at the boy’s constant yammering.  “I believe she’s a dead princess, Swab.  Some
flighty little creature, who became a demagogue and tried to save all the poor
downtrodden people or some such nonsense.  Little idiot.  Apparently she forgot
where she was and what her family could do to her if she made trouble for them. 
So, now she’s a martyr.”  He rolled his eyes again.  “Can you please shup up
now?  This kingdom has plenty of paranoid graffiti and statues of dead morons,
so if you make us stop and explain each one, we’ll never get to where we’re
going.”

“And it’s too fucking hot here for
that.”  Ransom added.

“It’s not the heat, Dove.”  He
paused for effect.  “It’s the women.”

Ransom snorted in amusement as she
traced the numbers on one of the doors with her fingertip, carefully confirming
the address.  “We’re here.”  She announced. 

One ebony tress fell onto her face
and he reached out to move it without even thinking, but she beat him to it. 
She gently tucked the lock of hair behind her ear, shielding it from him.

On one hand, he was gutted to miss
such a perfect opportunity, but on the other, it allowed him a clearer view of
her earlobe.  She had
beautiful
earlobes.

His partner frowned at him, waiting
for him to move.  “You going to knock or what?”

“Huh?”  He shook his head to clear
it, then remembered their mission.  “Oh, of course.”  He quickly pounded on the
large ceremonial door.

A moment later, a frightened looking
servant appeared.  “Yes?”

“Good evening, my good lady.” 
Uriah tipped his hat to her in theatrical greeting.  “We’re here to…”

“
Who is it!?!
”  Someone
screeched from the estate.  “
Tell me, Darvulia, I must know!
”

Ransom let out an annoyed breath. 
“Shit.”  She threw her arms wide, recognizing that this was going to be a
nightmare.  “Here we go.”

“Maybe that’s someone else.”  He
offered, hopefully.  “Perhaps the woman we’re looking for is soft-spoken and
affable, and that is merely her cruel attendant.  Let’s not jump to conclusions
here, Dove.”

The maid smiled nervously, as if
afraid to break the hard news to them.  She cleared her throat.  “Umm…”

“Have they slit your throat, child!?!” 
The woman shrieked again, sounding like a caricature of a bitchy but wealthy
old woman.  “Is that why you’re refusing to tell me!?!”

The maid smiled at them nervously
again, as if to apologize.  “It’s… it’s Outsiders, ma’am.  And a woman.”  She
informed her employer in Adithian.  Strictly speaking, Outsiders weren’t even
technically “human” to the Adithians.  They were classified as sub-human
animals.  “Shall I let them in or shall I call the Gardeners?”

“Let them in before you cause a scene
with all your theatrics, girl!”  The old woman scolded loudly.  “Stop yelling! 
We don’t need the entire street hearing my personal business!”

The maid looked back at them. 
“Please, if you would follow me?”

“Ah, to the ends of the earth, dear
lady.”  Uriah teased as he stepped into the open courtyard. 

Ransom made a retching sound.

A moment later an elderly woman
burst through the doors of the structure and out into the courtyard to meet
them. 

She wasn’t Adithian.  Uriah wasn’t
really sure what kingdom the old woman was from originally, but she obviously
thought she belonged here.  And she certainly looked the part.  Cultured and
dressed as if expecting a formal function with a dozen heads of state to erupt
around her at any moment.

“Uriah?”  His partner asked softly,
her disgust over his insincere flirtations with the maid forgotten for the
moment because she needed him to be her eyes.

“Yes, of course.”  He cleared his
throat.  “Courtyard filled with decorative stones.  Old woman on stairs fifty
feet in front of us.”  He informed her, setting the scene.  “Lacks her daughter’s
grace and attractiveness.  Looks like a hard-driving, hard-drinking bitch,
trying to outdo your people in the vanity and pride department.  I’d guess her
husband was old money somewhere and now she thinks she’s special.  Imagine… I
don’t know… an aging mine owner’s wife, hating the world because she chose
money over love as a girl.  5’5” or so.  Tense and irritated.  Grey hair in a
tight bun.  Expensive clothes.”

Ransom nodded.  “Gotcha.”

Uriah spread his arms wide in
greeting.  “Mother Ester!”  He called, pretending he was thrilled to meet
finally her.  “I’ve heard so much about you that I feel like we’re already the
dearest of friends!”

The old woman’s lip curled in
distaste.  “I don’t ever recall being friends with a Grizzle.”

She used the slur for people from
his homeland like it was their actual name rather than a pejorative.

His smile never faded.  “Ah, Mother
Ester, you’re
everything
I hoped you’d be.”

“Don’t call me ‘mother,’ you ugly
Outsider.”  She shook her head.  “I’m not that old.”

“Compared to what?”  Ransom asked
no one in particular.  “The seas?”

Ester’s eyes narrowed, but she let
it drop.  “Are you the buffoons my idiot son-in-law hired?”

“The very same buffoons, yes.”  He
nodded pleasantly.  “May I say that I find your perspicacity as regards dear
Din to be a breath of fresh air, after spending so much time in the man’s
company.”

The old woman shook her head in
disgust.  “That boy is so stupid that every time he takes a shit his IQ goes
down.”

Uriah laughed in delight, overjoyed
with the woman.  She was going to be so entertaining!  “Ah, the wisdom which
comes only from a life well lived.”

“You people wouldn’t be my first
choice.”  The old woman decided.  “For anything, especially not something which
requires a brain.”

Ransom let out a hissing breath and
her hands fisted at her sides, taking personal offense at the woman’s words about
him for some reason.  “You know what, lady?  Just kill yourself.”  She crossed
her arms over her chest.  “Do us all a fucking favor and
die
.”

“I’ll loan her the rope.”  Ryle
offered.

Ester ignored them, keeping her
focus on Uriah.  “Are you as profane a vulgarian as the rest of your cursed people,
boy?”

He put his hand on his partner’s shoulder,
trying to calm her down.  “I’ve been known to swear, ma’am, but not unless it’s
absolutely fucking necessary.”

“Mmmm….”  Ester put her finger up
to her chin as she considered that.  “Fine.  We can talk business.”  She
announced, then pointed at Ransom.  “Tell your woman to leave.”

Uriah nodded and turned to Ransom,
his face serious.  “Leave, woman.”  He ordered flatly.

Ransom and Uriah were both silent
for a beat, then they broke out in fits of laughter at the same moment, not
bothering to hide the fact they were mocking the woman to her face.

Ester failed to see the humor.  “So,
you two are… what?  Like married or something?”

“Or something.”  Uriah’s smile
faded, no longer liking the fact that a stranger was talking about Ransom.

“Good.” Ester nodded in approval.  “Marriage
is no way to live.”  She started back towards the house.  “Take my word for
it.  I’ve been married three times.”

“’The wolf and the dog do not play
together long,’ as my mother used to say.”  He casually walked up the stairs
behind the woman.  “Perhaps your problem isn’t the institution of marriage,
perhaps your problem was choosing weak men.”

“All men are weak, Grizzle.”  She
informed him calmly.  “Playing with themselves their whole lives, like
frightened little boys.”

Uriah laughed again, finding this horrible
women so wonderfully fun.  “Well, Mother Ester… some boys are
bigger
than others.”

“Really, ‘Rai?”  Ransom wondered
aloud, sounding annoyed.  “Really?”

“What?”  He spread his arms wide. 
“I’m having a pleasant conversation with our client’s mother-in-law, benefiting
from her lifetime of experience.”

“I could show you a few things,
son.”  Ester arched an eyebrow.  “But I don’t date men from your neck of the
woods.”

“Wow.”  Ransom told no one in
particular.  “When
this lady
turns you down for sex, you know you’re
unappealing.”

Ryle snorted in laughter.

Ester turned to get a good look at
her, then looked disgusted.  “What on earth happened to that girl’s face?”

“Birthmark.”  Ransom deadpanned.

“You do that to her?”  Ester asked
him.  “Because I completely understand the impulse.”

“Just a unique and exciting
birthmark, I’m afraid.”  He assured her, not bothering to even pretend it
wasn’t a lie.  “That’s Ransom.”

Ester made an unconvinced noise. 
“What’s ‘Ransom’s’
real
name?”

“Don’t have one.”  His partner
informed her.

He held up a finger.  “’Good wine
needs no label,’ as my beloved mother used to say.”

Ester shook her head.  “Well, I
patently
refuse
to call a grown woman such a ridiculous thing.”

“Guess you won’t talk to me then.” 
Ransom sat down in one of the chairs.  “Damn.”

“And that?”  Ester pointed at
Ryle.  “Is that your servant?”

“Hostage.”  Ransom flipped a hand
in dismissal.  “Ignore him.”

“Stop calling me that!” Ryle
stamped his foot in irritation.

“He’s our team’s perpetual damoiseau
in distress.”  Uriah turned to face the old woman again.  “Pay him no mind. 
He’ll most likely be dead soon and is but a bit player in our little drama.”

“I see.”  Ester considered the
situation for a moment, then nodded.  “Fine.  But let’s get one thing straight:
you idiots work for
me. 
You might have been hired by that little
asshole Din, but he used
my gold
to do it.  You are
my
hired
muscle!”

Uriah tipped his hat to her again. 
“Mother Ester, rest assured that I will defend you with my life until it ceases
to be profitable for me to do so.”  He held up a hand as if making a vow.  “But
until then,
no one
shall lay a hand on you… unless they pay me more than
you and your son-in-law have!”

The old woman made a disgusted
face.  “I don’t mind you being an annoying little prick, son, just so long as
you got the balls to back it up when the shit goes down.”  She arched an eyebrow. 
“You ever help people with something like this before?”