Nothing seemed old about the Elder Coast. The dense wall of trees and vines crept right up to the rocky coast, where moss and seaweed clung. Sometimes, animals could be seen in the shadows of the rainforest, but many times it was just a stoic bastion of plant life. Vaenuth knew why it was called the Elder Coast—these were the lands upon which humans had first arrived on the continent, thousands of years ago.
“You been here before?” Tagg asked her. They were sitting on the deck of The Flying Hound, relaxing after a morning training bout. Tagg kept gingerly rubbing a spot above his knee where Vaenuth’s sparring blade had resounded.
“I have,” Vaenuth said. “I can’t remember the name of the ship I was on or anything. But I got this tattoo after that voyage.” She pointed to the second highest of the black rings on her right arm, practically in her armpit.
“Why? What does that ink represent?” he asked. Most of her tattoos were just art, but the big black bands on her right arm were not.
Vaenuth shrugged. “Failures. After I landed in Maykren, there was only one more.”
Tagg didn’t prod more. Maybe he knew what she spoke of, maybe he didn’t. Though she never spoke of it, she suspected most of her friends in the caravan knew of her slave’s background, and her escape from that life. She had once told Banno, which is why he was always so concerned for her wellbeing. She wondered how he was doing with the caravan; they were making a delivery to Vagar, the oldest mining town in the empire.
Pressip appeared, shirtless like the rest of them. He had a few small tattoos on his back, and curly black hair on his chest. “Vae, Tagg, we got some of the crew in a game of dice. Want to join?”
“Stakes?”
“They’re good,” Pressip said. He grinned. “We’ll dry these sailors out!”
Vaenuth stood up. “Tagg? You in?” As soon as she reached her feet, she realized that her legs were sore from all the training. She sighed.
“No, I’m out.” Tagg smirked, and then looked back at the teaming forest three miles north. Sometimes, the winds took them so far out from the coast they couldn’t see it, but this was a fast, short-range ship, so they never put out to ocean.
Vaenuth followed Pressip to the mess hall, where some twenty men surrounded a gambling table. She leaned over Krebin to watch the game. “The sailors are getting angry,” her warrior warned, with a wink. “But they won’t get out of hand with you, at least.”
“What do you mean?” Vaenuth asked. “I can handle my own.”
A few of the sailors laughed uncomfortably, but still didn’t look at her disrespectfully. Then a burst of comments, cussing, and fist slamming echoed the creaky dining hall. The ship tilted to the left, and the dice tipped again. Then they started arguing about how they had rolled. No one answered Vaenuth’s question, but by the time she had a turn with the dice, she suspected an answer. She was quite sure that Captain Smetter had threatened horrible vengeance on any man who looked twice at their wealthy female passenger.
She won her first turn at dice, calling that there’d be ten sixes and there was. The men all cheered, and presented her with their coins. Some were Numa’nakres coins, wood ringed by iron. Some were copper sailor’s currency, used as far ranging as Ellakar, on the far side of Radregar. She had never been there, but had heard of it lots from the other girls in Ith. She had worked in many places before, but that was the furthest east.
With the winnings, she bought into a few more rounds, but eventually, Krebin, Pressip, and she were playing more games than the sailors. Someone accused them of cheating once, but no fight broke out. It was all sport, and it was a straightforward bluffing game. Arloe didn’t play much, on account of his terrible luck, he said.
That evening, they reached the jungle town of Hawsi. The first captain she had made this voyage with, the one that had earned the tattoo on her arm, had hired another woman there, this one still a slave in all but legal terms, and the three of them had spent three nights together, before they set sail for Maykren. As much as Vaenuth didn’t mind the physical things she did now, surrendering her freewill for coin or passage or force was something she could not tolerate. With every ounce of her strength, that was what she fought now. And would continue to fight.
They did not stay in Hawsi for three nights, this time. They set sail on the morrow, with a cargo hold full of food and fresh water. And Tagg and she trained with swords again.