Page 2 of Virelai's Hoard
“That proof enough?” Thorian asked, his voice a rasp as he scanned the dockside.
A seagull perched on a crate tilted its head at Thorian. But the people around? They were pretending not to see, just like they were pretending not to see the water lapping at the docks.Varethians were quite the experts at turning a blind eye to anything they found distasteful. Riley would know.
Just like she knew this man wanted her to stop talking. Riley willed her thundering heart to settle down, hoping the brief panic hadn’t shown in her eyes. Thorian bit the bait. She was in control. Pulling away from his grip, Riley let the coin fall into her pocket. Now her heart hammered, not in fear, but excitement. If he was shelling out just to prevent her from revealing too much where ears could hear, tonight both she and Patch were going to feast.
With a sharp nod, Riley pulled out the map and handed it over.
Thorian relaxed as he took the parchment from her and unfolded it, inspecting it at length. This was it. The deal was so close to closing, Riley’s fingers tingled in anticipation of a heavy bag of coins. A hot meal, an actual mattress to sleep on, and a soft scarf for Patch to nest in. Her boots could use an upgrade as well. A sturdy pair like Thorian’s, custom made just for her.
“And where did you find this...?” Thorian asked. The last word hung expectantly as he raised his eyebrows at her.
“Ryan.” Riley thrust her hand forward enthusiastically, as any hustler would be at a client wanting to learn his name, but Thorian made no move to clasp it. She let it fall with an embarrassed little grin. “It was gathering dust amongst my master’s scrolls. He sailed past the Quiet Sea once, in his youth, and collected many trinkets. Didn’t think he’d miss this one.” She cast a glance around at that, as if worried said master might jump out of nowhere and ruin everything at the last moment.
The man pursed his lips–amused or annoyed? She couldn’t tell–and peered at the map some more. “And what’s this legend you were talking about, exactly?” The eyes he set on her now were as sharp as at the beginning.
Oh.
He knew. How?
A deeply ingrained self-preservation instinct made Riley stumble back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The map swayed to the ground as Thorian lunged at her.
Riley ducked under his arm and took off, right boot slipping on the now useless piece of paper. She pushed her hands against the ground, gathering momentum instead of falling, and scampered out of Thorian’s way. Her clothes fluttered as the man tried to grab at them, but she was faster.
He followed her.
She weaved through carts and startled merchants, lungs burning, boots skidding on the slick docks. But as fast as she was, she’d underestimated him. His strides were twice as long as hers, and instead of wasting time ducking and slipping between objects and living things, he barreled straight through the obstacles, much to the anger of the latter. Several curses flew at their backs.
Riley jumped over a barrel, risking a look behind her and sparing a wink and a grin for the furious man chasing her. It startled him into slamming his shoulder against the corner of a dilapidated bait shop, and she let her laughter roll off her tongue at his howl of pain.
Veering right towards the docked ships, Riley dashed across the plank leading to a small fishing boat and leaped onto the boat’s roof. One foot broke through the rotting wood with the impact, but the other held, and she turned to Thorian again as she pulled it out. He was standing now on the other side of the plank, his eyes scanning for a safer route to her. “Let’s see you barreling through these, big man,” she shouted at him.
Her skin buzzing, Riley rode the high of the chase and braved increasingly daring jumps. From one small fishing boat to another, to medium merchant ships, up the stacked crates andbarrels until she made it to an old freighter. Like most of these docked ships, it stood forgotten and creaking with age.
There, in a maze of ropes, barrels and shadows, she hid.
It didn’t take long for Thorian’s boots to stomp on deck, but he’d lost sight of her, and now he stopped. His frustrated growl echoed around the freighter, and Riley pressed a hand against her mouth, muffling her breathing as her chest heaved.
She stayed hidden through the man’s shoving crates aside and spilling curses, and she kept waiting as his heavy footsteps faded into the distance.
Once her hands stopped shaking, Riley puffed out a relieved laugh and slipped away.
“That was a bit too close, Patch. You should’ve warned me.”
An indignant squeak answered her.
***
Thorian’s bronze got Riley a tankard of watered down ale and a steaming hot bowl of fish chowder, more odor than taste. She shoveled it down mindlessly as she scouredThe Salty Wench’s packed clientele. The brother suns were now joined up high in the sky, and their wrathful heat battered down on Saltmere’s streets. This was where the town’s least desirables hid. Not much light made it past the stained windows, which was half the appeal of this place. Judging by the patched up clothes, toes sticking out of rat-eaten boots and dirt-streaked faces, no one here had two coins to rub together, but the perusing was one of Riley’s deeply ingrained habits, just as natural as breathing. And it distracted her from what she was putting in her stomach. Not that she hadn’t had worse before.
“It’s your loss!” Someone’s shout cut through both her thoughts and the bustle of subdued conversation. “The captain’s a real stand-up person!”
That earned a sharp snort of disbelief from another voice. “Or a real fool, like the rest of you.”
Riley did the same as everyone else in the room. She adjusted her seat for a better view. The commotion came from a table near the center–a blonde woman, barely able to sit still, and a dark-haired man with a face like he’d been permanently disappointed since birth.
“Ouch! Nyxen! What was that for?!” the woman asked, her voice pitched high as she rubbed her arm.
