Prophecy of Thieves [chapter 23.2]

After draining three cups of water, a mug of ale, and eating a full bowl of beet soup, the hole in Rieka’s stomach and chest was slowly being filled.

“You ordered a table’s worth of food, and only two plates of it are sweets?” Ren whined, lifting a flaky pastry coated in nuts and honey.

Rieka reached across the table, grabbing a koleti, a fried pork patty. She shoved it into her mouth, draining half of her ale to wash it down. “Steal some money and buy more sweets if you want it so bad,” she murmured around the food in her mouth.

Ren bit into the pastry, the flaky dough sprinkling over his lap. As he chewed, he shrugged. “Not as good as chocolate, but pretty good,” he said, taking another large bite.

They ate in silence for several minutes, shoveling food and water into their mouths with no restraint. Only Zain seemed to eat slowly, sipping at a bowl of seafood stew.

Rieka reached forward, dipping her chunk of rye bread into a bowl of creamy goat cheese. While she knew she should savor each food—each flavor one of home—she was far too hungry. Truthfully, that hunger drove away the bubbling emotions in her chest, each bite dispersing it into nothing.

Rieka ripped off the chunk of rye bread, tossing back her head with contentment. Stars, she missed good food. She had grown sick of dried meat and fruit, washed down with leather-tainted water.

“Rieka,” Ren muttered around a full mouth of a yeast pancake drizzled in syrup. “Would you be so kind as to hand me those wanted papers? I’d like to burn all evidence of mine.”

She rolled her eyes, though she was feeling almost giddy with food in her belly. So instead of barking out a retort, she shuffled in the bag hanging from her chair and reached across the round table to hand him the crumpled papers.

Ren smoothed them on the empty table space before him, a piece of bread sticking from between his teeth.

“Shameful,” he muttered, tapping the deformed, bulbous nose that had been drawn instead of his straight, rounded one. “I’m the most attractive one here and this is the treatment I receive…”

Shadya giggled from beside him, peering down at the papers. The others began to smile as well, even Zain, who rarely expressed any emotion at all.

“Who told you you were the most attractive?” Rieka retorted, lifting a brow. She grabbed her own paper to examine it. “I am—” She read the description written in small Styrkish letters at the bottom of the poster. “I am not round! It’s muscle!”

Ren laughed, clutching his stomach as he leaned back from the force of it. A few nearby tables glanced sideways at his dramatic response, brows raised.

“What does mine say?” he asked, handing her his poster.

Rieka read over it, her lip pulling up in the corner. “‘This unnamed criminal is a short and thin Larabosi male of about 16 years of age, with dark hair and brown skin. He appears to be sickly and suffering from a mental shortcoming. Will likely be volatile and irrational.’”

Ren’s laughter was gone, replaced with a blank stare. Shadya had doubled over in giggles, her arms wrapped firmly around her middle. Kai huffed out a chuckle and grabbed the poster with his face plastered across it. It was the only image the artists had managed to get perfectly.

“I suppose they described us all equally as poor,” he said, a small smile pulling at his lips.

Rieka snatched the other papers and read them over, her lip curling. “They described you as a tall warrior. Apparently one that should be approached with great caution.” Rolling her eyes, she glanced up at Kai. “The only thing they have to be cautious of when meeting you is the possibility of being bored to death.”

Kai raised a brow, giving her a look.

She shuffled next to the prince’s wanted poster, and her expression fell. “Fuck no,” she muttered, reading over his description.

“What?” Shadya urged, leaning over the table eagerly.

Rieka flipped the paper around, showing the drawing of the prince, each of his features smooth, each flaw erased. Instead of depicting the scrawny, anxious boy beside her, they had drawn a handsome man.

“What?” Ren gasped, leaning forward to examine the poster. His eyes flitted to the prince, who stared with wide eyes and red cheeks. “I think the warriors we came across in the fortress were a bit taken with you.”

“That’s not even all,” Rieka grunted, flipping the paper back to her. “‘This unnamed criminal is an above average height and lean Styrkish male of about twenty years of age, with auburn hair and pale skin. He is clever and capable with a weapon. Maintain caution when confronting.’ Caution?” Rieka shook her head, slamming the paper to the table. “If they need to take caution with anyone, it’s me, yet I’m only called a short, round woman with an attitude.”

“To be fair,” Ren hedged. “You are a short woman with an attitude.”

“I’m not round, though! It’s muscle!”

The others laughed among each other, the prince even cracking a smile.

Ren reached over the table, snagging the prince’s poster. He held it up beside the prince’s face, examining.

“You know,” he mused. “It really does look like you.”

The prince stared at Ren quizzically, his brows furrowed.

“Funny, Ren,” Rieka mumbled around another bite of food.

“It does.” Ren began folding the poster, the creases precise. He pointed harshly to his own poster. “I don’t understand how such accurate artists could create this monstrosity from this masterpiece, though,” he grumbled, waving a hand before his face.

“It is beneficial to us, you know,” Amani commented idly. “If the drawing is inaccurate, you can hardly be incriminated upon sight.”

Ren shook his head, lips pursed. “I’d rather be arrested on sight and have the world know of this beauty than be free and ugly.” He glanced up and met Rieka’s eyes, his lips pulling down in a mock frown. “I can never begin to understand the struggle of your life,” he tutted, shaking his head mournfully.

Rieka grabbed the steak knife nearest to her hand and held it before her. “I will carve the skin from your face, and then we will see if you think yourself to be beautiful.”

“Still be prettier than you,” he said with a wink.

Rieka shoved out of her chair, her muscles tense. Her torso flared with dull pain at the movement, which she ignored. Ren scrambled away on limping feet, hiding behind the prince’s chair, his head peeking out from around the prince’s shoulder.

“Have mercy!” Ren squeaked. “If you must skin someone, skin the prince! According to Styrka, he’s the most attractive one here anyway.”

“You are all ugly,” a sharp voice said. All eyes turned to Shadya who sat, watching idly. Amani scolded her quietly, the action flaring annoyance in Rieka’s chest.

Ren placed a hand to his heart. “Is that what you truly think, dear Shadya?”

“I know,” she said with surety, nodding once.

There was a quiet chuckle on Rieka’s left, and she turned to find Zain smiling. “It is solved, then. No more point in comparing beauty.”

Ren stood from behind the prince’s chair, shaking his head. As he limped back to his seat, he muttered, “But I’m the least ugly, right?”

“No,” Shadya said.

This time, they all laughed.

…

Rieka peered out her room at the inn, watching the bustling city below. The sun was beginning to rise, and she knew it would set a mirage upon the ocean’s waters, though she couldn’t see them from where they were nestled in the city. Instead, she only saw the merchants setting up their booths for the day, arranging their goods and calling out to the morning shoppers.

Despite her exhaustion and full belly the night before that was the perfect formula for a good night’s rest, she had hardly slept at all. Partly to do with suddenly waking with stomach pains, only to empty the contents of her stomach in the nearest restroom, and partly to do with the longing that once again settled upon her bones.

She wanted too much and got so little. She was getting sick of it. Sick of wanting what she didn’t deserve.

Because she deserved being labeled a traitor to Styrka. She deserved her banishment and everything that came after. Yet, she couldn’t convince her own idiotic mind to cast aside these desires for what she couldn’t have.

Rieka turned away from the window and slung her bag over her shoulder, shoving out of her shared room with Amani and Shadya, the two already eating breakfast below. She joined them and the others at the table, grabbing a cheese filled pastry and biting into it.

“We should leave soon,” the prince said, nursing a small cup of tea, his eyes darting to the tavern’s door each time it opened. He was no doubt thinking about those wanted posters and what they meant for roaming the city freely.

Rieka swallowed, the food like ashes down her throat. He was right. They should leave soon. Yet, the prospect was an unappealing one.

Stop, she ordered herself. Just… stop thinking.

“If those posters are posted across the city, then it’s likely accurate to say that any docked ships have seen them,” Amani pointed out, busy braiding back Shadya’s freshly washed curls. They had all taken their turn in the bathing chambers provided at the inn, spending more of their piled coin on the luxury. Not that Rieka minded. She would’ve given almost anything to be clean after two weeks of filth.

“I know,” the prince responded softly. “The ship we will board passage upon will have to be of more… disreputable standings.”

“Oh?” Ren asked, shoving rolls of sweet bread into his deep pockets, the trousers now clean thanks to a likely weary innkeeper. He had also donned new boots, though he shifted painfully in them. “I love all things disreputable.”

“Is this level of disrepute…” Amani hedged, choosing each word wisely, “unsafe?”

Rieka turned away as she spoke, a flare of irrational irritation sparking in her chest. Ever since their argument in the Kiertsk range, Rieka had tried to ignore her completely. While she despised Amani’s choices and meekness, it was clear the woman loathed herself for the same reasons. And… perhaps Rieka was getting soft, but she couldn’t help but pity Shadya. The young girl hadn’t had a choice in what family she was born into—she hadn’t had a choice in the lifestyle she was raised in. That was on Amani, and while Rieka could hate her for it, she supposed Shadya deserved some level of peace.

“I do not believe so,” the prince said. He didn’t sound very sure.

…

They were far more careful walking through the city streets that morning with the knowledge that their faces were known and hunted. They stayed in the center of the crowds, managing to follow the flow of traffic and not stay in one place for too long.

Rieka soaked up the last of Styrka she would see, watching the vendors sell their wares and breathing in the air tinged with fresh rye and the ocean brine. Merchants from each country strolled the streets, dressed in all shades and fabrics. It wasn’t the typical Styrka Rieka was used to, but it was Styrka nonetheless.

Eventually, they ended up at the docks, the port stretching far and wide along the coastline. The wooden decks were bustling with merchants and traders piling their new goods onto their ships, the noise of their chatter drowned out by the churning of the frothy, deep blue sea.

Rieka stared out at the open waters beyond, her gut flipping. Somewhere beyond the waters was their next task. Somewhere beyond the waters was her life awaiting her once this was all said and done—a life far from the beautiful home at her back.

“Somewhere out there is a pile of gold, waiting just for me,” Ren murmured dreamily beside her. He had managed to follow her train of thought, ending up at a completely different destination.

“Is that all that goes on in your head?” Rieka mused. “Gold and the love you have for yourself?”

“Most often yes,” he agreed with a shrug. “Though, occasionally, more naughty thoughts will cross my mind.” He waggled his brows in insinuation.

“I wouldn’t ask Ren about what goes on inside his head,” Kai said, stopping beside Rieka. She peered up at him to find his brows lifted. “I am sure there is nothing good.”

“Because he has mental shortcomings?” Shadya asked, her side pressed close to Amani’s.

Rieka laughed, the sound coming from deep in her belly. Kai joined in, the chuckle more reserved.

“Exactly,” he told Shadya.

“Go ahead,” Ren huffed sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest. “Poke fun at my expense. It’s not like I have feelings.”

“It’s not like we care if it hurts your feelings,” Rieka pointed out.

He gave her a look, his curls sliding over his forehead. “You really know how to make someone feel appreciated, darling Rieka. It’s a gift.”

She huffed out a chuckle, turning back to the open ocean. As she took in the grand sight once more, her smile fell, her solemnity returning. Why couldn’t she just see this next part of their journey the way the others saw it? As another step towards gold?

Instead, she saw it as a step away from the true thing she desired. Not that it was attainable.

The gold was attainable, she reminded herself. Focus on what was realistic. Her feelings didn’t matter. Not when they were all stupid feelings.

“Where is he going?” Ren muttered, watching the prince begin too strut down the docks and towards one of the largest ships tied there. Rieka gazed over that ship’s sails. No emblem of any country, just a black silhouette of a sea serpent.

“Come on,” Kai mumbled, shoving away from the sidewalk and following the prince onto the docks. They followed, watching the prince warily as he stopped before a tall, broad man with dark skin and a shaved head.

Rieka lifted her brows as the prince peered up at him and began speaking, showing his pouch of coins. Was the sheltered boy… bartering with a pirate?

She shook her head with incredulity, stopping behind the prince, her palm flying to rest upon her axe should fighting be necessary. Kai pulled her hand away, shaking his head. She scowled, but obeyed, tucking her fingers into her pockets instead.

“53 golds a person,” the pirate was saying in Arlanian, his voice accented with a strange lilt that didn’t belong to one country. He had a harsh face—one that labeled him a true warrior. Rieka silently sized him up, gauging her odds.

“30,” the prince argued, his hands twitching over the strings upon the pouch of gold. Rieka furrowed her brows. What was he doing? He could afford the sum the pirate named, and they were in no place to bargain. Not when they were fugitives.

The man merely laughed, the sound like a whetstone on iron. “I don’t bargain, boy. 53 golds a person, or no passage at all.”

“I suppose I can take my business elsewhere,” the prince said, tucking his gold back into his pocket. Rieka looked between him and the pirate. Why wouldn’t he accept the man’s offer? Fool, an absolute fool.

“You can’t,” the pirate responded arrogantly, squaring his shoulders. “You need passage from my ship, not some legal trader. That’s why you’re here. So, you pay what I charge.”

“See,” the prince said calmly, clasping his hands before him. This prince was not one Rieka knew. Not at all. “That is where you are wrong. I can take my business anywhere on these docks and they will bargain with me until a compromised price. I came to this ship because it is known to be the fastest and strongest vessel all across the continent.”

“So those wanted papers aren’t you, then?” the pirate barked out, a grin pulling at his lips.

“Do they look like me?” the prince responded, giving the pirate a look. “And suppose they are. Greed drives men, not justice. At least upon sea. Trust me, the reward Styrka gives for fugitives is far lower than any price I will pay for passage.”

The pirate seemed to contemplate, reassessing the prince. Rieka turned to do the same, her eyes wide. Since when did the scrawny boy grow a spine? He held himself differently, even, his back straight and his chin lifted.

Truthfully, he was deciding to grow a pair of balls at the wrong time. They were desperate for passage as the pirate claimed. Saying Styrkish sailors were driven by greed over justice was a lie. All those loyal to Styrak put loyalty over greed. Pretending it was otherwise foolish. He should’ve just taken the offer and been done with it.

She reached up to once more palm her axe, ready to intervene, when the pirate said, “Okay, we can bargain. But there is no way I’m taking 30.”

The prince nodded, grabbing his pouch of gold once more. “35?”

…

The pirate captain and the prince had settled upon 40 golds a person for the one-way-trip. It was by far more money than Rieka could remember ever having at one point in time, yet she had the feeling the sum was still less than a typical passage across the sea.

They boarded the ship, the crew following them with prodding eyes as they walked to settle their things below deck. Rieka had never been aboard a ship, and after just a few steps, she knew she was going to hate it.

Even docked, the ground seemed to sway beneath her feet, rising and falling like a breath. She stumbled more than once, cursing whenever she did. Only Ren, Shadya, and Zain seemed unbothered by the unsteady floor, adjusting their stances easily. Rieka silently cursed them for it.

The quarters below decks were crowded with lines of hammocks and cubbies for personal belongings. The captain led them to their hammocks, which were crammed in the furthest corner, stacked with little space between. Rieka lifted a brow. This was going to be a miserable few weeks.

After setting her pack within the cupboard bolted to the wall, she followed the others above deck. She met the stares of a few crewmates, glaring sharply until they turned away.

They didn’t bother her or the others as they all began the flurry of tasks to get the ship to sea. Someone began to crank up the anchor, and soon, the ship was pushing out of the port, the city growing more distant.

Rieka watched Trigovnik fade, all sounds fading with it. When she could no longer see the city, only the wide coastline of Styrka and the shadow of mountains beyond, she watched that too until it faded into nothing.

Then Styrka was gone. Whatever thread had attached her to her home seemed to yank, tearing off a piece of her heart as its connection was severed.