“Captain Predeau?” Harp asked.
“Kitto. It was his fault.”
“What happened to the boy?”
“The kid? His coin got paid,” Merik said, looking surprised at the question.
“Do you plan to leave after your birthday?” Harp asked, pulling out the small flask of brandy that was the boy’s allotment for the tenday and handing it to him.
Merik shrugged again and uncorked the flask. “I’ve been on the boat since I was thirteen. I hated it so much, I thought I’d die. I was sure I’d leave the day I turned eighteen But now I’m not so sure.”
“There’s nothing for you on the ship.”
“Where would I go? I hate it, but it’s my home, you know?”
Harp sat quietly for a moment before checking over his shoulder to make sure there was no one in sight. They were sitting near the bow of the ship, both of them having finished their shifts before the dinner call. Harp pulled out his dagger and began to clean his fingernails. At the sight of the knife, there was shift in the mood. Merik, used to violence, felt it.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Merik. I might be wrong, but I don’t think so. Who bought you?”
“What?” Merik asked in confusion.
“Who bought you? Who beats you? Who makes you work like a dog for no pay?”
The boy made a move to get up, but Harp grabbed his wrist and yanked him down hard.
“Who, Merik? Is it Kitto?” He whispered, digging his fingernails into the boy’s dirty arm.
The boy shook his head quickly, obviously shaken by Harp’s unusual intensity.
“Say who it is,” Harp said.
“The captain,” Merik whispered.
“That’s right. And who should you hate?”
Merik tried to wrench his wrist out of Harp’s grasp, but Harp tightened his hand. There were tears in Merik’s dark brown eyes. Harp felt bad about making him cry, but he felt relieved at the same time. At least Merik could still feel something. It might not be guilt exactly, but it was a stone’s throw away from being so.
“Who should you hate? Kitto?”
Merik shook his head again.
“You’ve become a little captain, which makes you more whipped than Kitto. Don’t you get that?”
Merik stopped struggling and slumped against the railing.
“Do you know what you’re going to do on your birthday? You’re going to walk off the ship a free man. And you’re never going to look back. Find a girl, get married, and forget about Captain Predeau. Otherwise he’ll be the voice that whispers in your ear for the rest of your life.”
Harp put his dagger away and helped Merik to his feet. When the boy walked off the ship in the morning, Harp was the only one at the railing to watch him go.
With Merik gone, Predeau searched half-heartedly for a new ringleader. But with Harp around, the other boys were reluctant to turn on each other. They stopped targeting Kitto, kept quiet, and did their work. When Predeau unleashed his wrath, it was at the lot of them, and that seemed easier for the boys to take. Harp counted the days until his tenure was up and worried what would happen to the young sailors when he left.
And then Predeau kidnapped two elves: a blond male and a coppery-haired female. There’d never been any ransoms of anything but human men before, but from his perch in the rigging Harp saw the distinctive slant of the prisoners’ ears, and a feeling of certain dread rose in his chest. Everyone knew that Predeau viewed elves as little more than vermin infesting the land. Harp slid down the mast rope for a better view of the elves, but not far enough to attract the attention of Predeau.
Predeau strode out of his cabin to the elves lashed to the center mast. Without speaking, he pulled out his sword and slit the throat of the male, an older elf who had a look of calm acceptance on his face when he died. In later years, Harp wondered why Predeau picked that elf, if he knew of him specifically, or if he was simply closest to the captain at the time. As if he’d heard Harp’s involuntary gasp, Predeau looked up and grinned at Harp, who was still perched in the rigging.
“Get down here,” he bellowed as the blood from the elf soaked into the boards around the mast.
Harp slid down, landing softly beside Liel, who was trembling visibly. She was shorter than Harp, and slender with a pixieish face. A delicate pattern of flowering vines was inked along her jaw and disappeared along her neck under her coppery hair. There was a palpable sense of strength about her, as if she could strangle a man with either her hands or an incantation-had she not been bound. They must have taken her cloak and armor when they grabbed her. It was too cold for the thin shift she was wearing.
“We got ourselves a little elf whore. What do you think we should do with her, Flute?”
“I’ll take her down to the hold,” Harp volunteered.
“Eager, aren’t you, boy.” Predeau laughed, and Harp saw the elf flinch. As Predeau headed back to his cabin, Harp undid the rope from around the mast and led her to the hold.
“No one is going to touch you,” he whispered. But he could tell by the loathing in her eyes that she didn’t believe him.
That night, he organized the boys into a round-the-clock watch on the elf. If any of Predeau’s henchmen came near her, one of Harp’s boys made a diversion, and another ran to tell Harp. Harp made sure he was the one who brought her food. When she figured out that Harp was watching out for her, the hatred disappeared from her eyes, although she was still reluctant to talk to him. She took a shine to Kitto, however. One night as Harp started down the steep steps with a plate of food, he heard two voices coming from the hold. He hurried to see who had slipped in without his notice, and saw Kitto seated on a barrel outside the elf’s cage.
“What are you talking about?” Harp asked casually. He handed her the plate of food, trying to hide his surprise that Kitto wasn’t mute after all.
“Flowers,” she said, with no trace of humor.
He paused. “What kind?” he asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that they would be discussing gardening in their wretched surroundings.
“Violets.” She smiled, and he decided it was the sweetest smile he had ever seen.
Soon it became obvious that Predeau was in no hurry to ransom Liel. When they were docked at ports, couriers brought letters almost every day, but Liel remained in the cell. One of the older sailors told Harp that he’d heard there wasn’t going to be an exchange made at all. That Predeau had kidnapped her for political reasons and was waiting for the right moment to kill her and leave her body in a public place.
One day as Harp worked on the sails, he heard one of the boys screaming his name. Although he was much to high to make it safely, he jumped down out of the rigging and landed painfully on the deck where one of the boys named Mallie waited for him.
“Captain said that Kitto was trying to free the elf,” Mallie cried. “He’s beating him to death!”
Harp sprinted across the deck to the open trapdoor that led down to the hold. But as he scrambled down the steps, one of Predeau’s men grabbed him and yanked him off the ladder. Harp scuffled with the man, shoving him up against the wall as another sailor grabbed Harp around the neck. Harp flipped the man over his shoulder, slammed him down hard, and punched him in the face to keep him there. Two more sailors grabbed Harp from behind and pulled him back as Predeau lashed Kitto with the ‘tails.
“Stop!” Harp shouted as Predeau raised his arm to hit the boy again.
Predeau wheeled around and glared at Harp. “Did you just give me an order?”