“I didn’t tell you anything important, Fort,” Tress said. “You don’t have to take that in trade.”
Ah, he wrote. But the information about Ann is barely worth anything. Everyone knows it. You’d have found out soon anyway.
“You acted like it was some big secret!” Tress said.
No. I just asked what you wanted to trade. He grinned, poking her in the arm with a knuckle, then continued writing. Don’t look indignant. Revealing your emotions makes it easier for people to get a good deal out of you. That one is free.
Ann was given the job of assistant cannonmaster because she asked for it after the last one died. But no one thought to have her fire one of the blasted things first.
“And…？” Tress asked.
That woman has worse aim than a drunk man riding a three-legged llama, Fort wrote. She once fired a pistol at a target, but managed to nearly hit ME—and I was standing next to her. The first time she manned the cannon, her aim was so far off, the only thing NOT in danger was her target.
“Moons,” Tress said. “Maybe…she just needs more practice.”
I’ll let you teach her, then. I’ll be safely boarded up in my room, maybe with some armor on. Fort eyed her. Some things aren’t meant to be, girl. Sometimes you simply have to accept that.
“You’re talking about me. And Charlie.”
Maybe. Listen, Tress. Even if he’s still alive, the Sorceress will have cursed him like poor old Hoid. She uses a lot of different types, but she always puts one on her captives, to keep them pliable.
“How do you know so much about it?” Tress asked.
Captain told me, Fort explained. When she had me trade to get Hoid on our ship.
“The captain specifically wanted Hoid on the ship?” Tress asked. “Why?”
Don’t know. She heard about his curse and his trip to the Sorceress. Getting him was a poor deal, since his former shipmates were happy to be rid of him. Captain insisted though.
Fort shook his head, considering the damage to his reputation once people found out how much he’d traded to get a lunatic to be their cabin boy.
Tress’s interest deepened, however. Captain Crow had manipulated the crew into becoming pirates, then forced them to become deadrunners—because she wanted them to sail dangerous seas. And she’d specifically been watching for someone cursed by the Sorceress?
Could the captain be looking to visit the Sorceress herself?
Tress looked toward Crow. And then, Tress took the singular step that separated her from people in most stories. The act, it might be said, that defined her as a hero. She did something so incredible, I can barely express its majesty.
I should consider this more, Tress thought to herself, and not jump to conclusions.
THE CURSED MAN
Perhaps you are confused at why I, your humble storyteller, would make such a fuss about this. Tress stopped, wondered if she’d jumped to a conclusion, and decided to reconsider? Nothing special, right?
Wrong. So very, soul-crushingly wrong.
Worldbringers like myself spend decades combing through folk tales, legends, myths, histories, and drunken bar songs looking for the most unique stories. We hunt for bravery, cleverness, heroism. And we find no shortage of such virtues. Legends are silly with them.
But the person who is willing to reconsider their assumptions? The hero who can sit down and reevaluate their life? Well, now that is a gemstone that truly glitters, friend.
Perhaps you would prefer a story about someone facing a dragon. Well, this isn’t that kind of story. （Which makes it even more remarkable that Tress still does that eventually. But kindly stop getting ahead of me.） I can understand why you would want tales of people like Linji, who tried to sail around the world with no Aviar.
I, however, would trade a dozen Linjis for one person who is willing to sit down for a single blasted minute and think about what they’re doing. Do you know how many wars could have been prevented if just one person in charge had stopped to think, “You know, maybe we should double-check; perhaps blinking twice isn’t an insult in their culture”？
Do you know how many grand romances would have avoided tragedy if the hero had thought, “You know, maybe I should ask her if she likes me first”？
Do you know how many protracted adventures might have been shortened if the heroine had stopped to wonder, “You know, maybe I should look extra carefully to see if the thing I’m searching for has been with me the entire time”？
I’m drowning in bravery, cleverness, and heroism. Instead, kindly give me a little common sense. At that moment, Tress was downright majestic.