Startled, I took a half step backwards. Her breath drifted between us, white in the frigid air. She looked at me as if I were… as if I were a criminal, a monster.
As if I were a man stalking her through a darkened city in the middle of the night.
I raised my hands, realizing too late that it was the same gesture cart drivers used to calm anxious horses. I also recognized that I had completely blocked off the mouth of the alleyway, which could do nothing to soothe the situation. Yet she would bolt if I moved, and though I could certainly stop her, I did not want to.
“Mary Firth,” I began. “Allow me to apologize—”
She cut me off. “Tell your captain I’m not coming back. Chasing me like a dog? Expecting me to swallow his lies? I shouldn’t expect any better from the likes of him, from the likes of you.”
The words hit me like a slap. “I—”
“How dare you follow me!” She cut me off again. Her accent was stronger than mine, a rural Aeadine lilt typically sported by shepherds and woodcutters. It was distractingly endearing, even if it was currently scolding me. Perhaps even more because it was scolding me.
“You terrified me,” she snapped. “And I do not react well to being terrified.”
I glanced anxiously over my shoulder. Those drunken men had to be close now, and I needed her to quiet down.
I took a small step forward and she fell silent. Nervousness flashed through her anger. I took no pride in it, but she was listening now.
“Hold up, Ms. Firth, please,” I started, praying she saw my sincerity. “You looked unwell and I was startled to see you. I ought to have declared myself. My deepest apologies. I’m Samuel Rosser, of Hart—”
“You were in Whallum,” she interrupted me, her face an iron mask.
I nodded. “The same. I am a pirate hunter under Her Majesty’s Commission.”
Mary let out a derisive, tired laugh. “Pirate hunters don’t normally sound like such prigs.”
So, she had identified my accent too. She was right—most of my kind did not sound like they had just walked out of the Royal Academy.
I tried not to rankle. “Have you met many pirate hunters?”
“What do you want?”
I glanced back at the darkening street and lowered my voice. “How did you get here? Have you escaped Randalf?”
“Why are you here?” Mary returned obstinately.
“I am hunting Silvanus Lirr.” I lowered my hands. Back in the street, the drunken men passed by, bawling a lewd song. “He was last seen chasing John Randalf out of Whallum, bound for Tithe.”
Her eyes flicked to the singing men. “You’re hunting Lirr?”
“You know of him?”
Her face paled in a way that made my stomach curdle. “I… I met him. At sea.”
A horrible, thick silence fell between us, and the queasy feeling in my stomach grew. “Did he take your ship?” I asked.
She looked away. The flintiness had faded from her eyes and, despite her height, she looked smaller. That was answer enough.
“How did you survive?” I wondered aloud, my head conjuring up dozens of horrific images. Lirr was not a common pirate, striking and running with loud guns and threats. He took his time. He tortured, killed and burned. If he had taken Randalf’s ship…
“Ms. Firth, is he here? Are you running from him?”
“No.” Her answer was quick, insistent, but her tone dulled as she went on, “No, I jumped overboard. A… merchant ship picked me up.”
I gaped at her. “You jumped ship? In the middle of the ocean? You had to know you would…”
“Drown?” she supplied. “Yes, I assumed I would. There are fates worse than death, Mr. Rosser.”
“Indeed.” Mary had chosen the waves over capture by Lirr, and she spoke those words as if they were a common mantra. This was why I had signed on to hunt the pirate down, why I had staked my redemption on him. I could do nothing greater for the world than stop a man so violent and vile. “How did you survive?”
She did not speak for a heartbeat, then, “I clung to some wreckage, until the merchant came along. I remember little of it.”
That seemed inordinately lucky, but here she was. I hesitated. “Does Lirr know you survived? Did he follow you?”
She laced her arms over her chest, and I noticed for the first time that she was wearing no more than a sailor’s short coat—no scarf, no hat or even a woman’s cap. Saint, I was cold in my full weather gear. She had to be freezing, and here I was interrogating her.
“Since he didn’t find me, I’m sure he thinks I’ve drowned,” she said.
Some of the tension ebbed from my shoulders. She might be right. Though, since Lirr was a Sooth like me, there was a chance he would realize she was alive. Perhaps she was not worth the trouble? I still had no clue why he had wanted her and Randalf to begin with.
“Ms. Firth.” I cleared my throat, beset with the sudden urge to get us off the street. “Will you have dinner with me?”
“What?” she asked, her rural accent sounding particularly strong.
“You are freezing.” I gestured to her. “And there is an inn around the corner. We can sit, you can warm up. I will buy us the best hot food and wine this port has to offer, and we can figure out what to do.”
“Why would you do that?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but could not find the words. To get her next to a fire, so she would stop shivering? To convince her I was no monster in the dark?
Or to keep her away from Demery? If the pirate discovered she was here, he would waste no time in snatching her up. That last option struck me broadside, giving me renewed urgency. I resisted the impulse to step closer, shifting my weight into my heels instead.
“I want to convince you to join my crew,” I said, simplifying. “Hart.”
Amusement flicked across her face, then it was gone. “Just convince?”
“Yes.”
“What if someone sees us together, from your crew?”
“Only Ms. Fisher knows who you are.” I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “And she is on watch. Anyone who sees us will think I am sharing a meal with a local woman.”
“Do you do that often?” She crooked an eyebrow. That look was almost coy, despite the cold and all we had discussed.
An answering smile tugged at my lips. “Not often, no.”
Wind gusted through the alley. She visibly gritted her teeth and forced her chin down in a nod. “All right. What did you say your name was?”
“Rosser. Samuel Rosser.”
“Well, then, Mr. Rosser. You may take me to dinner.”
SAINT, THE—The Saint is that most revered being whom the Aeadine serve, and whom their rulers represent to the populace. In contrast to the myriad Mereish and Usti ‘Saints,’ Aeadine’s singular Saint is the Bringer of Order, who gave feral humanity logic and reason and sealed the boundaries with the Other, before retreating to the Far Seas. Before the establishment of the Aeadine monarchy and the acknowledgement of the Saint, the people of Aeadine’s mainland devoted themselves to local deities, degrading the Unified Mind and turning humanity to barbarism, including the worship of Ghistings. However, after the conquest of 463, in which the Blessed Kings of Aeadine’s northern coast scourged the mainland, worship of the Saint became the formal faith of a newly unified Aeadine. It remains the most prominent religion in Aeadine and the only one sanctioned by the queen, who to this day wears the Saint’s Own Crown and guards the nation against various heretical foreign factions, who in their err promote worship of gods and innumerable fictitious ‘Saints.’ See also AEADINE: WORSHIP, CHURCH OF THE SAINT.