Chapter Fifteen: To Drink a Pint or Two

The Blind Dog, Britva

The city had seen many horrors over the past month, the violence brought upon by the salt gangs, the turf war between the Blades and Terrors. Fires, explosions, musket shots, and cannon fire, held much of the town at some level of fear. Mirratroy was resilient, however, its people as firm as the islands on which they lived, and this was no truer than in the city of Britva. Despite all that had happened, there was still singing, drinking, whoring, and a good time to be had by one and all. The Blind Dog was just one example of this, open late, stocked with girls and booze, and alive with laughter and song and the clinking of drinks.

With Mermaid’s Kiss gone, this was one of the few locations open at this time, and inside the Blind Dog was packed with sailors taking advantage of the bar’s later hours. Every table was taken, filled with people singing their shanties, gambling on cards and dice, and spilling more booze than they were drinking. Off in the corner a band played its jolly tune with the sounds of fiddles, accordions, and tin whistles, and girls as pretty as buried treasure pushed through the throng with smiles, fresh booze, and topless nipples. In the center of all this happy chaos was Ryan and Jim, drinking heavily from pewter tankards, heads tipped back as they chugged the contents with jovial enthusiasm. Ryan finished his drink and slapped the tankard down on the table, wiping the froth from his mouth.

“Ah, there we go!” He gave Jim, who was still not finished with his drink, a playful shove, causing the boy to sputter and spill his bumbo over the table.

“OY!” Jim shoved Ryan in the shoulder. “That’s good drink ya be spillin!” He finished what was left in his cup, pausing a moment before letting out a loud belch. “Aye, that’s the stuff, I be tellin ya, Ryan, you got to get yerself a cup o dat.” Ryan laughed, shaking his head.

“Nah, that stuff’s too sweet, don’t care much for the bumbo, I’ll stick to the rum.” Jim just grinned, shrugging, already tipped off the drink. He pulled a coin purse that did not belong to him out of his pocket, tossing it casually in the air.

“What say we gets us another round?” Ryan laughed, eyeing the purse as it rose and fell.

“I suppose if they’re feeling generous.” Jim smiled ever wider, throwing an arm over Ryan’s shoulder in drunken enthusiasm.

“Aye, that’s the spirit! I says we keeps drinkin til the coin run out on us!” The two laughed heartily, and jim waved a bar wench over. A woman with dark skin the same color as the chocolate Ryan had seen in the sweets shop came to their table, her long, smooth hair flowing down past her shoulders and playing on the edge of her subtle nipples, framing a delicate face with eyes of golden chestnut. She must have been from Tiriis, or perhaps Eubean, Ryan was not sure, either one was likely. What he did know was that she was beautiful.

“Hello boys, what can I get you? Drink? Or…” She traced around her breasts with the faintest touch of her finger tips, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Something a bit more… special.” Ryan blushed, though it was hardly noticeable with how tan he was. Drinking made most men brave, Ryan thought it just made him more awkward, and right now he was skunked. Jim, of course, was unphased, and merely smiled at the woman with his trademark grin, smooth as fresh polished steel despite his youth, and the fact he was further in the drink than Ryan.

“Aye, you be somethin, that ya be. But we be here for the drink.” He lifted his tankard, turning it upside down to indicate its lack of alcohol. “I be havin a bumbo, and this lubber…” Jim looked over at Ryan, smirking when he saw his obvious interest in the woman. “He’ll be havin plain rum.” He held up 2 Sirens between his fingers, which she took ever gently, smiling at Jim, the boy winking at her as she left. Ryan watched her go, eyes lingering on the contours of the woman’s body, picturing a little less clothing. Jim gave him a jab in the ribs, pulling him out of his daydream.

“Oy! What was that for?” Jim looked at him knowingly, grinning toothily.

“You like her, don’t ya?” Ryan blushed again, and jim laughed at him. Ryan gave him a firm shove in the shoulder.

“What? And you don’t?” Jim shrugged.

“I don’t think she’s interested in me.” Ryan gave him a look, raising his eyebrows.

“Hard to tell, with how she was smiling at you.” Jim rolled his eyes.

“She smiles at anyone with o few coins in their pocket.” Jim craned his neck, looking over at the bar. “I be tellin ya, that girl finds ya fancy, and it ain’t the coin talkin.” Before Ryan could ponder this, the woman returned with their drinks, placing them delicately in front of them.

“There you go boys, drink up. Wave me over if ya be needin…” She smiled at Ryan. “Anything else…” And, with that, she disappeared into the sea of bodies that only seemed to be getting thicker. Jim wasted no time, taking a long drink from his tankard.

“Ahhh, nothin like the booze, nothin.” Ryan nodded absently, sipping from his own cup, still thinking about the woman’s smile. After several moments of pondering silence, Jim groaned, finishing off his drink before setting it hard on the table. “Oy, you think too much, think think think, thought the drink was supposed to give ya balls, not take em away.” the boy tossed a handful of Sirens on the table in front of Ryan. “Here, take these, go have a fun time with yer Tiriisian princess, just stop with that thinkin face.” Ryan took the money, shuffling the coins around in his hand. Jim prodded him in the side. “Best hurry, bar packed as it is, she won’t be available for long.”

Jim was right, and Ryan knew it. He finished what was left of his rum and pushed up from the table, catching himself on a chair as he nearly lost his footing. Drink had caught up to him faster than he had thought, but it was not anything he could not manage. Ryan pushed into the crowd, searching for the golden eyed beauty with chocolate skin.

…

Much of the events that followed were a blur to Ryan, as he slipped in and out of focus. He remembered being led up the stairs, her hand in his. He remembered the smell of perfume, sweet, cheap, and overbearing, the smell of sweat, damp wood, and unwashed sheets. He remembered the sounds of moans, gasps, and aching cries, and the sounds of sweet nothings, whispered in his ear.

Out of everything, however, Ryan remembered the feeling the best. The smooth, caressing touch of the woman’s skin, warm, and inviting, the feel of her lips on his, better than booze, better than money. The rough, excitable thrusts, as he entered her welcoming tightness, hot, wet, wrapping around him in ecstasy as he continued to pick up speed.

Despite these blissful feelings, the feeling that overshadowed everything, was that of emptiness. Everything about this encounter, however great, however good it made him feel, was meaningless, temporary, time and pleasure bought with silver and nothing more; Every kiss, every touch, every yearning thrust, overshadowed in a growing hollowness that ate at the back of Ryan’s drink addled mind. He denied these feelings, refusing to give into his insecurities, instead taking his frustrations out on a nameless whore.

With a final, shuddering groan, Ryan released himself, pulling away before collapsing into a useless, drunken heap on the dirty, sweat stained bedspread, breathing in huffs like a man who had been pulled from the sea. She giggled, but then she smiled at him, and it felt genuine. The woman laid down next to him, running a finger down his side.

“You had a lot of tension to get out.” She said gently, laughing softly. “But that’s alright, everyone gets pent up now and again, it’s just life.” Ryan’s breathing started to calm down, allowing him to speak.

“I’m sorry, I never got your name.” The woman leaned over him, looking down into his eyes. Ryan’s vision started blurring, the drink trying to drag him down to sleep, and the Tiriisian woman began to change, turning lighter, her hair becoming a radiant blonde. When she opened her mouth, it was not her voice, but rather, the soft, angelic voice of someone else.

“My name is Angeline.” She whispered. Ryan shot up on the bed, suddenly awake, startling the woman. “By the Nameless! What’s wrong with you?” Ryan looked around the room as if confused.

“Angeline?” It had felt so real, as though she had been right there, but it was just him, him and the whore. The woman looked at Ryan, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“What are you talking about? My name’s Diana.” She looked around the room, puzzled. “There’s no one named Angeline here. Were you thinking of another girl?” She folded her arms. “Because 2 costs extra.”

Ryan did not acknowledge her, lost in his own mind. He did not know why, but his thoughts kept coming back to the girl with golden hair, surrounded by flowers of a thousand shades and colors. A sensation of guilt scratched against the inside of his chest, guilt for betraying a girl he did not even know. He had never met anyone who made him feel this way, as though his heart had forgotten how to beat properly, and his lungs had forgotten how to breathe. He needed to be with her.

Without another word, Ryan got up from the bed and stumbled out the door, ignoring Diana’s confused sputterings, determined to find the angel that lived in a garden of flowers.

…

It was fast approaching the fourth hour and Ryan was absolutely tipped as he attempted to navigate the darkened streets. The rum was taking him, his body wanting nothing more than to sleep, but his mind was determined. He walked a rather haphazard path, fumbling from one side of the street to the other, bumping into waste bins and apologizing to the open air, catching himself on walls and lampposts as the world spun around him.

The city was quiet this time of night, even the overnight establishments slowing down as people simply went to bed. What few people that were out were shopkeeps and fishermen, getting an early start on a new day. Most of them paid Ryan no mind, busy with their own concerns, but a couple of them turned their heads to gawk at the drunken youth, even if only momentarily. He would have told them to shove off, but as his feet stepped off of cobblestones and onto sand, he looked up and saw the castle of black stone, looming ominously against the beach.

The large, intimidating structure contrasted so severely with the serenity of the beachface and surrounding jungle that it appeared almost alien, as though it did not belong and was only there out of spite. Most people avoided the place altogether unless they had business with the High Captain, and were smart for doing so, Captain Brimsley was not kind to those who trespassed. The man’s reputation was such that it was rumored that the halls beneath the keep were filled with dozens of sick and dying wretches, all victims of the captain’s wrath. However, Ryan was drunk, and not even the Nameless could comprehend his motivations at this time.

The sozzled boy walked the length of the beach, coming up to the wall that encircled the garden, or at least, he thought it was the same wall, it was hard to tell with his head spinning. Yes, there were the barrels from the first time he climbed over. Ryan looked about, his vision doubled and blurring, but it looked like the area was deserted. Ryan climbed up on top of the barrels, bracing himself to keep from falling in his stupor. He reached up, digging his fingers into the cracks and grooves in the stone and mortar. He was not being chased and could actually work his way up properly this go around, and even skunked as he was, Ryan could climb anything.

It took him a few minutes, mostly on account of his double vision making him misstep, but he eventually made it to the top. Ryan straddled the wall, looking down into the dark garden, confused for a moment when he did not see Angeline. He then remembered the hour, the sun still not risen, and he laughed quietly at himself for being an idiot. She was not here, and only the Nameless knew when she would be back. Ryan suddenly felt very tired, and decided he was better off coming back later. He went to go back over the wall, but lost his balance, fumbling stupidly before falling face first on the garden floor and passing out drunk.

…

The sun shone brightly through the open windows of the small, yet beautiful room in Blackstone Keep, the sea breeze blowing gently and causing the elegant white drapes to dance gayfully in the sunlight. The air was pleasantly warm and calm, a sign that today would be a glorious day on the islands, a rare treat during the Month of Storms.

Angeline dozed peacefully on a large poster bed in the middle of the room, lying on her back with her head haloed by her golden hair, beautiful, even in sleep. Island birds chirped and sang outside, but the girl barely stirred, rolling onto her side, perfectly at peace. A light knock came on her door, Angeline’s eyes fluttering for the first time.

“Miss, are you awake yet? I’m here to get you ready for the day.” It was Ms. Sally, the young woman that her father had hired to help her with different tasks, tasks made difficult by a lack of sight, one of which was getting ready for the day. Ms. Sally had been with her for as long as Angeline could remember, though the woman was not much older, and she had grown to think of her as a dear friend. Angeline smiled, and sat up in the bed, facing the direction of the door.

“Yes, I’m awake, you may enter.” She heard the door open and the unmistakable sound of Ms. Sally’s light, pittering footsteps on the hard stone. The short, petite woman, went to work, gathering Angeline’s clothes and helping the girl get dressed for the day.

“My my, miss, looking radiant as always, I don’t know how you do it, but I swears your hair always come out perfect, no matter the day.” Angeline giggled, blushing from the praise.

“Thank you, I’ve never seen my hair, nor my face for that matter, but everyone tells me I’m pretty, though, I wouldn’t really know.” She laughed, but it came out awkward, and she frowned, rubbing her hands together. Sally lifted her arms, putting her into a dress.

“Well, they ain’t lying, you’re pretty as a summer’s day, that you are, it’s enough to make a girl jealous.” Sally smoothed out some areas on the dress, tugging it down in places. “There we go, miss, all dressed nice and proper, now let me just work on your face an hair a bit and you’ll be right as rain.” Ms. Sally took her hand, leading her to the dressing table just a few steps in front of the bed, sitting her down in a comfy chair Angeline was sure was too extravagant for her room. She could feel the brush in her hair, the long, gentle strokes as Sally took her time making everything perfect, humming a familiar rhyme as she worked. Angeline rubbed her hands again.

“You know, Ms. Sally, you don’t have to call me miss, Angeline is fine.” Sally paused a moment, the brush stopping mid stroke, then continued on a again.

“No no, miss, it wouldn’t be proper, what with your father being the high captain an all.” Angeline sighed, of course, her father, how could she have forgotten. In her memory, no less than 3 servants had been punished for speaking too loosely in the halls of Blackstone Keep, she was sure they were still in the basement.

A few moments went by in relative silence, with Sally commenting every now again about something, the weather, Angeline’s hair, new fruit in the market, a ship with red sails at the docks. Angeline responded with yes’s and oh’s, and other fillers, but she was preoccupied with other thoughts. Finally, Sally stepped back, admiring her work.

“There you go, Miss, fresh as new sails, that you be.” Angeline smiled, she could not see the results of the woman’s work, but Sally’s words were full of pride, and it made her happy that she cared that much. “Now are you ready for something to eat? Or would you like to go to the gardens for a bit? It’s a lovely day for it.”

“Actually, I think I’ll spend a little time in my room, if that’s alright.” There was a pause, but then Angeline heard the woman’s footsteps move to the door.

“That’s quite alright, miss, no need to ask my permission. If you be needing me, just ring the bell.” The audible sound of the door opening and gently shutting, and then silence of being alone. Angeline listened for a bit, but all she heard were the sounds of parrots and gulls outside. She pulled open a drawer on the vanity, reaching in and pulling out the familiar rectangular shape of the small box she kept in there, setting it down on the table in front of her. She opened the box, running her fingers over the contents.

It was a box of stones, or gems, she thought her father had called them crystals. He had given them to her as a gift, a gift for his little sunrise, and they were supposed to be beautiful, glowing like little blue suns he said. Angeline cherished them, and took them out whenever she had time to herself. They were cool and smooth, with interesting shapes and edges, but that was not the only reason she loved them.

Angeline selected a medium gem from the box, one that felt round like a ball, but with one side that tapered to a point, so that it was almost like a large teardrop. She held the stone in her hand, and then took a deep breath through her nose. Almost immediately Angeline could see, or what her version of “seeing” was. It was faint, a world of black, but when she breathed in, when she took in the smells of her surroundings, she could see shapes, lines, an outline that gave depth and clarity to the darkness she knew all too well. She called them her magic stones, and it was for this reason that they were so precious to her.

Angeline looked around the room, holding the stone in her hand, seeing things with awe and wonder, things most people would consider mundane. She looked at her vanity, watching her fingers as she ran them over the wood, she looked at her bed, considering it much too large for the space. She walked out to the balcony, looking down into the garden. There were no colors, only black, but she could see the outlines of a thousand different flowers, she could see the statues, the parrots, the boy lying next to the wall… Wait… There was a boy in the garden. Angeline was puzzled by this, it was not the day nor the time for the gardner to come to the castle, but she could not help but think that the boy seemed… familiar, somehow. She decided to investigate.

Angeline went and placed the magic stone back in the box, putting her world back into black. It would have been nice to take it with her, but she could get around fine without it, and she worried about overusing it, she had held one too long one day and it had turned to dust in her hand, an incident that had truly mortified her.

Running a hand against the wall for reference, Angeline walked across the room to the door, feeling for the handle and exiting out into the hallway. She stopped a moment, listening, but the castle was quiet today, she could just make out the sound of Ms. Sally humming to herself somewhere down the hall to her left, probably dusting the music room. Angeline quickly went right, towards the stairs, and the gardens, doing her best to avoid unnecessary attention, especially from her father, if he found out about the trespassing youth he’d skin him. She was walking at such a brisk pace that she almost stumbled on the stairs, stopping just at their edge. Never before had Angeline been so grateful that her father had changed the stones and their texture near the stairs so she could feel when she near them. She laughed quietly at herself, happy not to have fallen, and carefully descended the steps to the garden entryway.

Angeline paused a minute in the entrance of the garden, Feeling the warm sun on her skin, listening to the birds, breathing deeply the smell of the flowers, this truly was her favorite space of the whole castle. She remembered the boy, and hurried to the far wall. She knew this place better than she knew the castle, and had no difficulty navigating around the birdbaths, statues, and flowers. Once she had reached the wall she moved carefully down, trying to find the boy in the grass. No, no, not there, not there either. She was sure she had seen him, the stones had never misled her before, had he left?

Suddenly her foot stepped on something firm and uneven in the ground. She did not have time to wonder what it was because a low groan emanated from in front of her.

“That’s my hand.” mumbled the boy groggily. Angeline’s ears perked up in recognition.

“Ryan?” She asked tentatively, to which Ryan merely responded with another groan. She needed to get him out of sight, this was her space but there were a hundred windows, and nearly half of them overlooked the garden. However, there were no doors on the wall that led outside, and Ryan was too hungover to make it back over the wall… he smelled like rum. She’d have to take him inside. Angeline knelt down, gently shaking him. “Come on, I need you to move, it won’t be pleasant if my father finds you out here.” She grabbed hold of his arm and under his shoulder, and with mild difficulty, managed to get him to stand up. As quickly as she could manage, she crossed the garden, pulling Ryan along as he shambled in a dazed half sleep. She reached out a hand, feeling for the rough stone of the castle wall, breathing a sigh of relief when she found it, knowing that at least it meant they were out of sight of the windows.

Using the wall as a guide, Angeline came through the garden entry to the base of the staircase that led back to her room. Ryan slouched a bit, pulling her down with his weight, and mumbled something about turning off the sun. She hefted him up as best as she could, and half led, half dragged the boy up the steps. When she got to the top, she stopped, and listened to the halls. From the sound of it, Miss Sally was still down the other hall. Angeline put a hand on the wall, hurrying to the end of the hallway to her bedroom. Her fingers fell into empty space, and she realized she had come to the door, remembering she had not closed it on her way out. She rushed into the room, but heard a loud thud, followed by a pained groan from Ryan. She had run him into the door... that she now guessed had not been open as widely as she had thought. She felt terrible about hurting the poor boy, but she did not have time to stop.

“Miss? Are you alright?” Called Ms. Sally from the other room, overhearing the noise.

“I’m fine, Ms. Sally, I just walked into the vanity.” Angeline’s voice came out a little more shrill than she would have liked. She closed the door and pulled Ryan across the room, who promptly collapsed onto the bed with hardly any help on her part and passed out again, mumbling something into the pillow she could not make out. She breathed a sigh of relief, Ryan would be safe in here until he sobered up… she hoped. A knock came on the door, startling Angeline, by the Nameless, she had a drunken boy on her bed!

“Miss, it’s Sally, I’ve finished cleaning the music room, I was wondering if you were feeling up to some breakfast? I can make porridge with those mountain berries you like.” Angeline struggled to keep her voice calm.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful Ms. Sally.” She paused, coming up with an idea. “I’ll eat in the garden this morning, the weather feels lovely today.” She added, praying that Sally did not enter the room.

“Aye, that it is, miss, good sun and fair heat. I’ll prepare the porridge and bring it out to you.” She paused. “I’ll even throw in a few of those jellied biscuits, Nameless knows you love those.” Angeline could not help but smile, Ms. Sally really was kind soul.

“Thank you Ms. Sally, you spoil me.”

“Well, a girl like you deserves it, miss.” Angeline could hear the woman’s footsteps fading down the hall and suddenly remembered how to breathe. She had bought herself a little time, hopefully time enough for Ryan to sleep off the drink.

…

Angeline entered her room and immediately shut the door behind her. She had managed to keep Sally with her in the garden for a couple hours, talking about anything and everything she could think of to keep the conversation going, all the while worrying about Ryan. Luckily for him, her father was not at the castle today, as she now knew from Sally, but rather, he was meeting with merchants from Tiriis or somewhere. So at least she did not have to think about what he might do to the poor boy, she had overheard him talking one time about something called Keelhauling? Ryan stirred on the bed, waking from his drunken snooze.

“Oye! What’s with the sun? The fucking Nameless, that’s bright!” There was a pause, as Ryan tried to make sense of his surroundings. “Where the hell did I end up?” The sound of hands running on sheets. “This bed’s as big as my room…” He muttered sleepily. Angeline approached from the door, smiling warmly, although it felt a bit awkward.

“Hello, I’m happy you’re feeling better, I, I found you lying out in the garden.” Ryan sharply inhaled, seeing Angeline for the first time, gasping as realization dawned on him.

“You’re Angeline? Brimsley’s daughter? That means… I’m in… I’m in… Oh God…”

“Blackstone Keep. This is my bedroom.” Ryan started Panicking, pushing himself up on the bed until he was sitting up against the back wall, she could tell because the sound his back made when it hit the stone.

“No, no, no no no, I can’t be here. What am I doing here? Brimsley will gut me with a hot knife!” Angeline sat on the bed next to him, putting a hand tentatively on his leg.

“There’s no need to be afraid.” She did her best to sound comforting. “My father is away from the island on business, it’s just me and my caretaker today, maybe a couple guards, but they don’t normally come around since my father says reputation keeps most people away.” Her smile faded a bit, thinking on the loneliness of the castle, but then returned as she tried to be friendly. “I brought you inside so you recover from your drink, I couldn’t get you over the wall otherwise.” Ryan started to calm down, she could feel it in his breathing.

“Well, I guess I should be thanking you, I’m just trying to figure out what I’m doing here.” Angeline moved her hand away.

“To be honest, I was wondering that myself, You’ve not been here since you visited me nearly a month ago, and then I find you lying in my garden smelling of rum.” Ryan blushed, though she could not see it, as he remembered the thought, however blurry it was, that brought him here.

“Well, I guess, I wanted to see you again.” Angeline blushed, unsure of what to make of the boy, but what Ryan saw was beautiful, and innocent. Still, she was Brimsley’s daughter… the very thought terrified him. “I don’t know, I do stupid things when I’m drunk, once I tried fight a pig because I thought it looked at me funny. I really should be going, no telling when Brimsley will be back.” Angeline’s smile faded a little, looking disappointed, there was no escaping the fear people felt for her father.

“Oh, I see, that’s quite alright, I understand.” Ryan got up from the bed, walking across the room and getting up on the window sill. Angeline grasped the fabric of her dress tightly, not wanting their conversation to end, yet feeling defeated in this desire, but she could not just let him leave, not without saying something first. “Ryan, for what it is worth, I’m very happy you came to see me again… Maybe, come back before the month passes again?” Angeline blushed again, feeling stupid. Ryan paused on the sill.

“Aye, maybe.” Then he left out the window and was gone.