Nobody Likes Fairytale Pirates (20 page)

“I can see that.”  Ryle nodded. 
“That would… suck.”  He cleared his throat.  “So… Ransom’s like…
available
?”

Uriah just stared at him.

“Ah.”  The boy nodded in
understanding.  “Gotcha.”

“She doesn’t want me.”  Uriah
explained.  “Tried to tell her once… she cut me off and told me to never to bring
it up again.”

“Ouch.”  Ryle gave a low whistle. 
“Sorry, man.”

He shrugged.  “I wouldn’t want to
date me either.”  He stared ahead unseeingly.  “I…I can’t be counted on.  Not
when it matters.  I’m… useless.”

“Forget I said anything.” 

“Every conversation we’ve ever had,
that is my ultimate goal.” 

Ryle was silent for a beat.  “So, again,
what you’re saying is that she’s not involved with any…”

“I’m not afraid of prison.”  Uriah
informed him ominously, cutting him off, his tone even.  “If you so much as
smile at her, I will beat you to death.”

The boy put his head back in a bark
of laughter.  “Ha!”

Uriah just kept staring at him,
unamused.

Ryle realized that it wasn’t a joke
and he swallowed nervously.  He opened his mouth to say something, then closed
it again.  “What… what if she smiles at me first?”

“Her smiles are
mine
.” 
Uriah tapped his own chest, then met the other man’s eyes.  “Don’t steal from
me, Ryle.  That’s the only warning you’ll get.”

“Jeez.”  The Swab stared at him for
a moment, looking stunned.  “Life in the ‘friendzone’ has made you a mean
fucking animal, hasn’t it?” 

“If anything, it’s made me nicer.” 
He shook his head.  “My life has given me ample reason to be what I am.”

“I’m not saying that I have a claim
to her or anything, but what about her family?  They might be looking for
her.”  Ryle argued.  “I don’t think you can just take someone like that.”

“Watch me.”  He bit out.  “I’m not
‘taking her,’ she’s already ‘
took
.’”

“You don’t know who she really
is.”  The Swab argued.  “They could…”

“She’s
mine
.”  Uriah cut him
off.  “They lost her, I found her, end of story.  They can’t have her because
she’s mine now.”

“Not from the sound of it, man.” 
The boy reminded him.  “From what you’re saying, she and you aren’t really on
the same page on that front.”

“No.”  Uriah agreed, looking down
at the ground for a moment, his voice on the verge of breaking.  “I suppose
not.”  He shook his head.  “But either way, I can’t lose her.”  He was quiet
for a moment.  “She’s the only thing I’ve got, Swab.  Everything else in my
life is just… well… it’s just utter shit.  Just… nothing.”  He let out a long
breath.  “I have exactly
one
person that I care about and…”

“You don’t want to risk her.”  Ryle
finished, sounding amused for some reason.  “Now where have I heard that
before?  Ah, yes.  I remember.”  He rolled his eyes.  “I swear, you two are
just… wow.”  He chuckled again.  “I lost my job, both my parents, my wife, our
baby daughter, my entire village, and everyone in the army
and
militia I
ever knew except Taylor, but dammit if you two don’t have me beat with your
drama.  Fuck, you guys seem to spend most of your day just fighting the feels
and trying to turn each other on, simply because you’re addicted to being
miserable.  I’m amazed you find time to do anything else, frankly.”  He let out
another amazed sound.  “And incidentally, if I didn’t hate you so much, I could
really
simplify your life for you right now, dude, but since you’ve
kidnapped me, I don’t feel the need to tell you what I know.  So,” he shrugged,
like he was helpless to fight against his own logic, “’fuck you,’ I guess.”

“If I wanted help with my life, I
would have kidnapped a relationship councilor.”  Uriah observed.  “Not the no-account
brother of the world’s poorest queen.”

“Listen, I really don’t want to
have a heart-to-heart with you either, man.”  Ryle shook his head and got back
to his feet.  “Honestly, like I said, I still don’t like you.  So I’m not
exactly crying over the idea that you’re not going to get the girl here,
because I honestly think she can do better.”

Uriah nodded.  “No question.”

“But on the other hand, I really
don’t feel good about the possibility of this kidnapping ending in death for
me, so how about we just stay out of each other’s way from now on?”  He started
towards the front gates again.  “Okay?”

“Uriah!”  Ransom yelled from the
house.  “Come in here and keep me from stabbing this bitch!”

He trudged up the stairs and back
into the old lady’s home.  “Are my two favorite women in the world not getting
along?”  He pressed a hand to his chest in mock horror.  “I so hoped you’d be
able to put personal issues aside and move forward as a family.”

“I can’t deal with her, ‘Rai.” 
Ransom made a slashing motion with her hands.  “I’m not getting paid enough to
put up with this!”  She pointed to the ground as if declaring her bottom-line. 
“We’re Red.  I don’t care what you say, we’re Red, dammit!  I’ve had enough!”

“What seems to be the…”  He began.

“Did you put my bag in the wagon with
the others or not!?!”  Ester snapped at him before he could complete the
thought.  “Because I don’t have all day here!”

“She’s certainly not getting any
younger.”  Ransom observed in agreement.

He didn’t bother to hide his
delighted laugh.  “I still don’t see how handling the bags is
my
responsibility.” 
He told the old woman, pointing over his shoulder.  “Why do you think I
kidnapped
that
young man?”

“Been asking myself this whole time.” 
Ransom thought aloud.

“I really don’t see why you two
fools need to make the care of my personal property a joke!”  Ester shrieked.  “This
is a serious matter!  That bag is made from the finest…”

“So, you just left him out there?” 
Ransom asked him calmly, like the other woman wasn’t screaming at them.

“He’s loading the wagon.”

“You let the hostage out of your
sight, to load our only vehicle, in a city filled with guards and people who
hate you?”  Her eyebrows went up in surprise.  “Is that a good idea, Uriah? 
Were you using your head just then?”

“I was… distracted.”  He groaned,
recognizing that she was right.  “Shiiiiiiit…”  He drew out, spinning on his
heel and dashing towards the front gates.

“Hey!”  Ester yelled after him. 
“I’m not through yet!  You haven’t been dismissed!”

He ignored her and took the front
stairs in one leap, then ran full speed across the graveled courtyard, trying
to keep the Swab from doing something stupid and rash which would get them all
killed.

Sadly, he was too late.

Ransom was a step behind him.  “You
see him?”  She asked, a touch of worry in her voice.

He didn’t respond for a moment,
still processing how badly this was going to turn out.

“It’s always one damned thing after
another, Dove.”  He let out an annoyed sigh.  “The first rule of piracy.”

“’Rai?”

“Yeah, I see him.”  He quickly shut
the gates and barred them.  “Our hostage has been arrested.”

Ransom leaned against the wall of
the Gardener’s security complex for this sector of the city, frowning in
irritation.  It had taken them twenty minutes to convince the old woman to shut
up and let them go handle things, and almost four hours for them to track down
where the Gardener patrol had taken Ryle.

From Uriah’s description, which she
always relied on, Ryle was being kept in the four story local precinct of the
Adithian secret police force.  The unmarked building was surrounding by a high
wall of fairly slick sandstone and there were only two ways through it: the
main entrance, which had a group of guards posted, and a small side door for
deliveries.  The door was made of heavy iron and was located in a narrow alley created
by the wall and a neighboring building.

Ransom was currently standing in
that dank and mildewy smelling alley, feeling bored.  Okay,
technically
,
she was beginning to worry about Uriah, but as soon as he returned, she could
go back to being bored again.

Her partner had taken care of the
guard stationed at the door moments before and had then disappeared.  Now
Ransom was standing next to the door waiting for him to return.  She’d taken
the opportunity to familiarize herself with the area, but had encountered one
of the many annoyances of her life: little signs attached to things.

There was a note on the door, but
what did it say?

Was it informing her that there
would be a parade next week? 

That cheese was on sale? 

That dragons lurked behind the door
and that under no circumstance should she ever open it?

She didn’t know.

She made a face.  It wasn’t that it
really mattered, and she was fairly certain that it said something like “do not
enter,” but it was still annoying.

Uriah had “borrowed” the old lady’s
impossibly large wagon to use on this rescue mission and it was currently
parked across the street.  In its cargo area were another one of the woman’s
huge trunks, one coil of rope attached to a hook which was used to secure the
bags, two shovels, and a basket filled with silk handkerchiefs.

She knew because she had checked. 
Twice.  Generally speaking, Ransom didn’t take chances on things, particularly
when her partner’s safety was involved.

The Gardeners were not the kind of
secret police that you wanted to spend a whole lot of time with.  They were a
goon squad seemingly bent on crushing all displays of rebellion or personal
expression, taught by their sadistic leader to be as cruel as possible. 
Granted, she had never personally encountered them—to her knowledge—but Uriah
had a more than healthy respect for their effectiveness, which was good enough
for her.  The man was a wiseass, but if he said that they weren’t people to
take lightly, then you could take his word for it.

But now her partner was taking too
long and she was starting to really worry about him.  There was no telling what
kind of trouble he could get into on his own without her there to save him.

Of course, knowing him, he’d
probably just run into more skanky women, all of whom were throwing themselves
at him.

The thought pissed her off and she
made a mental note to yell at him about the subject when he finally returned.

She wasn’t used to not knowing
where he was though, and if he didn’t show up soon, she was going to have to go
find him.

As if on cue, he appeared the
moment the thought formed in her head.  “Okay,” he whispered, “I’ve walked the
perimeter and this is the best way in.”

“Uh-huh.”  She didn’t move from her
position, leaning against the wall.  “That’s what I said earlier.”

“Well, I also wanted to make sure
the coast was clear, that’s all.”  He argued.

“You just wanted to see if there
was a way into the complex that would be more fun than this one.”  She
corrected.

He giggled.  “Yeah, that’s probably
true.”  He cleared his throat, obviously trying to sound serious.  “Bribes used
to get the job done in your homeland, Dove, but I’m afraid their recent
political troubles have made your people less agreeable.  Since the war began,
the Gardeners have just gotten completely unreasonable, and their change in
leadership hasn’t helped matters all that much.  Luckily, their competence has plummeted
in recent years, which helps compensate.  Thus, I’m afraid more severe action will
be needed if we hope to retrieve our misplaced hostage.”

“I’m sure you’re all broken up
about it too.”  She tried not to heave a resigned sigh.  “I know how much you
hate being forced to do something exciting.”

“’Life should be lived, not
observed.’”  He intoned wisely, in what was most likely one more of his
mother’s seemingly endless lessons on life.  About 50% of the man’s
conversation was just recycled from his mother.

“Uh-huh.”  She pointed at the
door.  “Hey, what’s that little sign say?”

“I don’t really read much Adithian,
Dove, but I assume ‘do not enter’.”  He answered.  “If it helps any, the sign shows
a headless body, which I interpret as representing the fate of anyone who
ignores the warning neither of us can read.”

“Ah.”  She nodded.  “What I
figured.”

He sounded thoughtful for a
moment.  “If it helps any, the sign itself is… well… I suppose it’s a
tawny
sort of color and…”

She let out an annoyed sound. 
“What the fuck color is ‘tawny’, Uriah?”  She threw her hands out in
exasperation.  “Color is meaningless because I can’t see it.  You always use
color to describe things, but you might as well just be using words you make up
on the spot and expect me to understand.  Or if someone tried to explain to
you
what colors smelled like or something, like, ‘What do you mean?  Red smells
just like blue, only with a hint of green.’”  She crossed her arms over her
chest.  “It’s all meaningless because I can’t base it on anything.”

“Color isn’t meaningless.”  He
defended calmly.  “The world is filled with colors, even if you regrettably
can’t see them.  So I’m going to describe for you the world as I see it,
because it might one day come in handy for you.”

She snorted in dismissal.  “I
really don’t see how.”

“Life is strange sometimes.  So, I
am perfectly willing to tell you about this kind of thing, even though you
think it’s a waste of time, just on the oft chance that it will one day help
you.” 

She wasn’t sure if that was
stubborn, condescending, or terribly sweet.

She kinda leaned towards the last
one and smiled in spite of herself, liking the idea of him being so willing to
waste his time for her benefit.

“Now then,” he sounded excited,
like he always was when he thought he’d get the chance to do something fun and
dangerous and pirate-y, “I’m going to scale the wall and find the Swab.  You
wait in the wagon, prepared to get us out of here quick, okay?”

She shrugged.  “Whatever.”

“Excellent.”  He turned and there
was a faint scrambling sound as he started to climb the tall security wall. 
“I’ll signal you when it’s time.”

“Uh-huh.”  She nodded, barely paying
attention.  Her partner just loved to overcomplicate things sometimes.  How he
managed to live his life on a boat was a mystery to her.  The man couldn’t
stand to sit still for more than thirty seconds at a time.  “Did you try the
door, ‘Rai?”

He stopped his ascent.  “Dove, I
hardly think someone would go through the process of building a jail surrounded
by a security wall and then not bother to lock the door.”

“Uh-huh.”  She sighed, feeling her
own pain.  “So you didn’t even try, did you.”  She summarized, not bothering to
make it an actual question.

“There’s no need to try it, because
I
know
it’s locked.”  He called down from the top of the tall wall,
somehow having climbed its smooth surface as if it were nothing… which even she
had to admit was pretty impressive.

The man could do the most amazing
things when he wasn’t being a dope.

She shook her head and absently
grabbed the doorknob.  “Pirates.”  She opened the door, not at all surprised to
find it unlocked.  “They always have to do things the hard way.”

The door hit him as he landed on
the other side and he made a small sound of surprised pain.  “Ow!”  He
staggered back a step, then there was a moment of silence as he presumably
looked at the door.  “That’s only because I opened it from this side.”  He
quickly covered.  “You just didn’t hear me do it, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I bet.  The damn sign
probably says ‘lock broken, ring bell’ or something, ‘Rai.”  She let out
another sigh.  “I wish you’d take this seriously.”

“How am I not being serious right
now?”  He sounded vaguely incredulous, but trying to keep his voice down.  “I’m
excellent at planning jail breaks, you know that!”

“You have a 45% success rate.”  She
reminded him.  “Meaning that the person you’re trying to rescue
dies
over half the time.”

“There are different
levels
of success, Dove, and I don’t think you can just generalize an outcome as simply
being a ‘success’ or ‘failure’.  I believe that your binary taxonomy ignores
many subtle circumstances which need to be taken into account when objectively considering
any result.  It’s a continuum of many delicate shades, rather than being merely
‘success’ or ‘failure.’”

“Yes, please tell me how ‘everyone
dying’ ranks on that scale, ‘Rai.”  She was quiet for a beat, inviting his
explanation.  “I’m all ears.”

“Umm…”  He hedged for a moment,
then cleared his throat.  “There are…
moral
victories.”  He explained.

She arched a disbelieving eyebrow,
but said nothing.

He cleared his throat.  “I simply
don’t have time to explain to you the particulars of those events which made
them successes.”

“Meaning: ‘You’re right, Dove, I’m
an idiot.’”

“But my way sounds better, doesn’t
it?” 

She could literally hear the man’s
boyish smile, and it made her shake her head in amused but affectionate
resignation.  Her partner just got such joy from life.  It would be almost
inspirational if it wasn’t for the fact that the things he found the most
delight in were usually illegal and almost certainly immoral.  But either way…
she found it so cute.

“One day, ‘playing pirate’ like this
is going to get you killed, ‘Rai.”  She warned him, not for the first time. 
“Life isn’t a game.  I know you’re having fun, but… but please be careful,
okay?”

“I know what I’m doing.”  He
sounded utterly dismissive of her entirely sensible caution, like a child being
told not to run with scissors.  “I have plans for my future and none of them
involve dying in this alley, trying to rescue
Ryle,
of all damned fool
things.”

Ransom didn’t need to see the
future to know exactly what was going to happen.  Life with her partner had
well prepared her for the probable series of events and ultimate outcome of
this endeavor.

There were two kinds of people in
the world, which could be easily identified by putting up a rope and hanging a
little sign on it that said “Do not touch.”  There was the kind of person who
would heed the advice and keep walking, and then there was the kind of person
who would immediately pull the rope, just to see what would happen.

Uriah was the poster boy for group
two.

The man simply had to know.  He had
to touch.  Had to see.  To him, the experience was worth whatever the cost to
him would be.  Once he was curious about something… once he wanted something… it
was just a matter of time.  That rope was going to get pulled.  Period.  And
she could advise against it all she wanted, but no matter how logical her
argument, the rope would be pulled anyway. 

Uriah couldn’t live with not
knowing.

And sometimes that childlike zest
for life and limitless curiosity was endearing.  It made her feel needed, and
alive, and a part of something important and exciting.  There were a lot of
times when she thought his enthusiasm was simply
adorable.
  It kept her
entertained and reminded her why she was so smitten with him.
 
But other
times, it was a colossal pain in her ass, a ‘Shovel Day,’ when she thought of
little else but knocking some sense into his dopey head with a heavy garden
tool. 

Because he was careless with his
life, and Ransom didn’t want him risking himself over things that just didn’t
matter.  She needed him too much.  He meant too much.

To be blunt… Ryle just wasn’t worth
it.

He wasn’t worth risking Uriah for. 
Nothing was.

As with everything else however,
what was best about Uriah was also one of his worst qualities.  The Gardeners
could have stolen the Swab’s
shoe
, and Uriah would have swiftly
volunteered to go retrieve it, just so long as he thought the mission would be
fun and he thought that the lad was weaker than he was.  He might make jokes
about it and he might pretend like the Swab needed to persuade him to the idea,
but he’d go.  There was a fair chance that after he retrieved the hypothetical
shoe, he’d decide to keep it for himself or force the Swab to pay an exorbitant
price for its return, but that wouldn’t prevent him from going to retrieve it
in the first place.

Uriah was not always an easy man to
understand.

But his soft heart and charming enthusiasm
for everything he did was going to get him killed.  He was a man destined to
have a big, shiny death someday.  And there was nothing she could do to stop
that.

“I think what you fail to realize,
is that…”  He began.

She cut him off by slapping a hand
over his mouth and pushing him back into the shadows beneath the prison
windows.

He made a muffled surprised sound
of protest.

“Shhhh…” She put her finger to her
lips, then pointed up at the windows over their heads. “Guard.”  She mouthed,
listening the man’s footsteps as he patrolled above them.