Zala turned to the merchant’s corpse and passed her hands over his body in a quick search for loot. The merchant wore plain cream-colored robes, a checkered blue-and-white kaffiyeh atop his head, and a beard patched with white hair.
Only the Vaaji people sported those distinct headwraps with that leather cord around their heads. Zala should have known. The crew had been raiding the Vaaji for weeks. Ever since the empire had attacked their home isle of Kidogo, the crew had redoubled their efforts against Vaaji shipping while dismissing other more lucrative takes.
Zala’s pat-down yielded nothing from the merchant, save for the dagger he’d fought with and two silver coins. She pocketed the silver as nervous sweat beaded down her forehead and a tiny clink rang out from the too-light purse at her waist. That didn’t matter though. She wasn’t here for coin.
She needed a hatchway that led belowdecks. But each time she caught a glimpse of one leading to the ship’s lower levels, a duel would block her way, fighters on both sides rushing to join bout after bout.
Her head swiveled like a hunting owl as she slipped each fight while she let her crew’s wine dance flow around her. Like a vulture she scavenged the dead and dying. None had what she was looking for, and she only found bronze coins at best and soiled pants at worst. A good pirate would have helped her crewmates as she secured the deck before looting. Zala didn’t consider herself a good pirate.
As she snagged a final coin purse from the latest corpse in her wake, the crash of a hatch door opening came at her side. Turning, she had to swallow a snort at the sight before her: A stout cook barreled his way out from belowdecks, stained apron and raised pan somewhat undercutting his otherwise admirable war cry. Waving his pan from left to right, the man charged the first pirate he saw.
He left the hatch behind him wide open.
It was bizarre, but Zala was never one to shunt her nose up at the rare turnings of good fortune. Cooks meant kitchens, and kitchens meant the supplies she needed.
She darted down to the lower deck, then closed the hatch after her. Her eyes adjusted from the stark white fog to the dingy shadows of a cramp storeroom. Wrinkling her nose at the stale air, her gaze fell on a set of overturned barrels. Zala sucked her teeth when she saw their contents: rich honey sloughing onto the wooden floor. She quickly gathered as much as she could into a set of phials, but the sticky substance was incredibly difficult to bottle up.
A phial of honey, a bundle of dawa root, a sliver of aloe, an eye of tokoloshe, and a stone’s worth of mazomba scales, she kept repeating to herself as she gathered up the last of the sweet nectar.
A sudden thump rumbled above Zala’s head. Was it friend or foe who had fallen? She put the thought away as she searched through the rest of the stores. As much as the guilt still lingered at the back of her mind, she had to find the galley if she had any hope of scrounging up the ingredients Jelani desperately needed. Once she found what she was looking for, she would help the rest of them—not before. Besides, how difficult could defeating a group of merchants really be?
As she corked the last phial, another loud thud hit the floor behind her. Zala twisted on her heels with her sword outstretched, ready to stab. A soldier’s body lay at her side with a dagger in her back. Zala relaxed her arm when she caught sight of Fon pulling her blade from the soldier’s spine.
“Of course I find you in the kitchens,” the aziza said with a chuckle.
Zala shook the mild shock from her face. “Aren’t you aziza supposed to be light on your feet?”
“Half-aziza,” Fon corrected her. Zala never knew how to address Fon, as she was both human and aziza—short for a standard human but tall among the diminutive forest creatures. “And we’re not supposed to be on our feet at all—well, most of the time. You’re thinking of pakkami.”
“Right, right.” Zala turned to the fallen soldier.
The soldier wore a green turban with red-padded armor and a tunic of white, the colors of the Vaaji Empire—the colors of their military. So, the merchants had guards after all.
“Your hands have been busy.” Fon nodded to the sacks tied to Zala’s belt, her already large eyes widening further. “Your mate already ran out of the stonesbane, then?”
Zala gave her a solemn nod, then sighed. “It’s becoming more difficult to find what he needs on these ships.”
“How long has it been since he’s had some of his potion?”
“This morning,” Zala said, still scanning the galley for more ingredients. “His stoneskin won’t grow for a few more days, but I try to stay on top of it.”
Fon pursed her lips. “What are you missing?”
“Just about everything. But it’s usually easier to find aloe.”
“I think I might have seen a barrel of some in the other storerooms.” The aziza hooked a thumb over her shoulder.
Zala grinned, and then the pair of pirates wound their way through the narrow corridors, avoiding what soldiers they could; the ones they could not avoid were met with steel. Alone, Zala was no extraordinary swordswoman, but with Fon’s flight distracting the soldiers, it made cutting down their enemies almost too easy, even in these tight spaces.
“Are none of these soldiers decent fighters?” Fon asked as Zala caught another in the back.
Zala looked down to her latest fallen foe. The Vaaji seemed young, no full beard, just the shadow of a mustache. With all these guards, the merchants were undoubtedly holding valuable cargo. It was a surprise the Vaaji were pressing so far into the Sapphire Seas at all. It shouldn’t have been so shocking, however. Though the foreign nation had a reputation for being little more than poets and scholars, in recent moons they had seemed to reclaim their former titles as explorers and conquerors.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll take easy targets any day.” Zala patted the soldier down. “Means easier pickings.”
Light feet led Zala and Fon toward the storeroom. As they continued they came across some of their own, a trio of mousey-looking men looting with eager hands.
Zala gestured their way. “You see, I’m not the only one plundering before the captain orders it.”
She couldn’t help pressing her nose into the other crew members’ loot—despite their sour scowls—making sure none of them had taken any of the ingredients she required. Discipline was sorely lacking on the Titan.
Zala glanced through one of the viewports. The clouds were still thick, cloaking the waves on either side of the ship.
Well, at least Kobi is getting smarter. Using the fog for the raid is one of the better ideas he’s had this week.
“How large is this ship, anyway?” Zala asked.
“Larger than Captain Kobi let on—wait just a minute, over there.” Fon pointed forward, floating just above a set of crates. “The aloe should be just against that wall.”
Zala started moving toward the crates, heart lifting, but she halted when two of the largest men she had seen that day stepped between her and her prize.
Chapter 2
Zala
The dim lanterns on the walls threw the pair of men into dark silhouettes that loomed over Zala. Yet neither made a move to attack. Were they so certain she was helpless? Did they think she’d simply flee? She didn’t give a damn how big they were; if they got between her and Jelani’s medicine, they’d be cut like all the rest.