Disclaimer: Dead men tell no tales? I beg to differ.
A/N: Welcome back! Just in case you're new, here's the rundown: a girl named Squirrel has joined the crew of the Pearl on their adventures. Find out more about her from the previous two fics about her, Deux and To World's End. Why have I split the story? Well, mostly because I thought To World's End was getting too long, and it would be a bit of a bother to have to cycle through over 35 chapters just to get to the stuff that's happened in the movie.
Anyhoo, to both new readers and old friends, welcome! And enjoy!
Rated for cussing and adult themes.
The tiles and the thatching of the roofs beneath her hands and feet made the going hard, but Squirrel was determined. Vaulting, flipping, throwing herself across the distance, she drew ever closer to the streets where the bathhouse stood. Where her friends were having parley with Sao Feng; where men from the East India Trading Company were headed.
Squirrel leapt down from the roof, tucked and rolled along the floorboards, then flipped lightly to her feet and kept running. Street-level had never been so intimidating. She forced aside the memory of Xin Fu's men as best she could as she ran through the shadows and across the boardwalks. She couldn't afford to be distracted. She had to get to Barbossa, had to warn him…
As she ran, the fog on the bay revealed many more ships flying that EITC flag. There were many of those ships in the harbour - huge war brigs, each with fearsome racks of cannon and each of intimidating size. Squirrel paused a moment to let her eyes and ears tell her what was happening below.
Military footsteps beat out the time, all over Singapore. Squirrel caught her breath at the mere number of platoons she could see, at the uniforms that marched through the shadows. How had she missed those? How had she not seen that the Company was already on the island? She'd seen one ship, and thought that was all. But there must have been ships docked on the other side of Singapore as well. She'd been so busy caught up in her plan and her role she hadn't seen anything else. And this was the result.
Beckett's net was closing tight around them. They were trapped like birds in a cage. If that was the case, then there would be no warning Barbossa about this. He probably already knew.
A familiar tune on a music box caught Squirrel's attention. She looked across the water. A figure - it took Squirrel a moment to discern whether they were man or woman - was walking slowly across one of the bridges, wheeling a cart - a street organ. Her conical straw hat was down low and her dress was all a-tatter. Singing birds in cages hung for sale, a parrot perched on the cart's edge, and a well-dressed monkey sat beside the organ box, paws on the handle.
Squirrel knew that monkey, that parrot, that woman, and that song. The music box was in Tia's hand, the gold heart-shaped amulet that played that haunting lullaby.
"Wind and tide both take me far," Squirrel sang to herself, as she slid down off the roof and moved cautiously through the shadows to the woman's side, "Far away from where you are…"
The music box snapped closed. "I t'ought you 'ad a job to do, Miss Greeh," Tia's voice purred, as she walked slowly on, pushing the cart before her.
"Pieces of eight?" Cotton's parrot added.
Squirrel kept pace in the shadows of the kampongs, keeping an eye and an ear out for the Company's men, as well as Sao Feng's. She wasn't going to get caught again. "We've got trouble," she said. She was wary about how much she could trust Tia, and for good reason. Squirrel didn't want to ask for help, but she knew that she might have to.
"I ken see dat," Tia murmured. The monkey chattered and pointed at Squirrel. Squirrel drew the back of her hand across the side of her face. It came away bloody.
"It's not mine," Squirrel assured them, wiping as much of it from her face that she could. She shuddered slightly, remembering how close those men had been, how painful their grasp on her…
"Where's Mistah Tur-nah, den?"
There was something in her tone which infuriated Squirrel. She already knows. "Where do you think? He's been captured."
Tia clucked her tongue. "Dis is not good. Barboosa and Miss Swann have just reached deh bat'ouse. All deh crew are dere, too." Tia's inky eyes glittered from under the brim of her hat. "What we planned hinged on you and Will-yam doin' what needed to be done."
"I know!" Squirrel snapped, tension making her lose her feigned manners. "We tried! But…" She fell silent as a platoon of soldiers marched by. They paid no attention to the woman with the cart, nor did they peer into the shadows. Squirrel froze and held her breath nonetheless.
"How long to port?" Cotton's parrot asked, tilting its head. The monkey folded its arms, and sounded as though he, too, were scolding her. Barbossa's plan was certainly, by now, unravelled.
"What do I do?" Squirrel asked, looking across the water towards the bathhouse. "What can I possibly do now?"
"You already 'ave everyt'in' you need, Miss Greeh."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
One of the cords at Squirrel's waist snapped, and the fireworks fell free, hanging by a single thread from her belt. Squirrel looked down, surprised, then looked back to Tia. The woman was leading her cart away into the night; Jack was turning the handle of the organ grinder, and an old familiar song began to fill the air.
"So, it's fighting, then?" Squirrel called softly.
"Wind in the sails!" Cotton's parrot called back, then started singing. Squirrel turned and walked away, the song echoing in her head.
Yo ho, haul together, hoist the colours high. Heave, ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die…
It was and old song. A song for pirates to sing. A song of defiance. And a song that signalled the end of a pirate's life, the end of an age. Barbossa had handed Squirrel a piece of eight, one night, back when they were on the Diana, and she had heard that silver coin sing. That same ringing tune. She'd asked what it meant. He'd told her that it was time. She didn't need to ask anything more. She knew the stories. She'd heard them all on Tortuga.
The Brethren. Shipwreck Cove.
Squirrel drew her dagger, and cut off one of the fireworks from the string, lit it from one of the paper lanterns, and threw it into the air. If nothing else, it would distract the Company men. There would be a fight out here sooner or later. Best be prepared now for the worst. She leapt up onto the rooftops once more, taking one of the lanterns with her, and moved onwards.
After a moment, she paused, and looked back.
The firework had clattered to the ground, silent. Squirrel watched it a moment, puzzled. It hadn't worked.
"A fluke," she murmured to herself, then cut, lit and threw the next paper tube in the chain. Squirrel watched it. This one flew a little further, but like the first, it did nothing more than land silently. "Oh, come on!" Squirrel pulled the whole chain of fireworks from her belt. "What's wrong with these?"
The monkey and the parrot appeared out of the shadows, clambering and fluttering towards her. They watched her curiously as Squirrel split one of the fireworks open, and squinted in the moonlight at the gunpowder. It was dry, and it was real gunpowder… so why didn't it explode? She threw the cut one aside with a disgusted noise, and tried another. Third time's the charm! It fell too short, and landed this time in the water. And still nothing happened. Squirrel grit her teeth.
Jack leapt up onto her shoulder, and Cotton's parrot waddled across the thatching towards her. They looked out at the fallen fireworks, then back at her, curious.
Squirrel pictured the merchant who'd sold her the fireworks. "Of course!" she snarled, "I see how it is! You sell fireworks that don't blow up to the white girl, is that it?"
"Piece of shit," Cotton's parrot seconded, with almost manic glee.
"You tell anyone I taught you to say that," Squirrel said, flinging two more fireworks, watching them do the same as the first three, "And I will never feed you again. Savvy?" She bit her lip, suddenly alarmed with herself. Savvy? Where had that…? It was a foolish question. She knew exactly where it had come from.
"Wind in the sails," Cotton's parrot sighed.
The monkey gave a screech, and leapt off of Squirrel's shoulder, scrambling down from the rooftops and vanishing into the night. Squirrel watched him go, frowning. Where are you off to? Then she sighed. Fine, you go. I'll stay here, with the explosives that don't explode. She examined the last three fireworks left on the rope. "What do you think?" She looked down at the parrot. "Should I keep trying?"
The parrot hopped up onto Squirrel's arm, and clawed up to perch on her shoulder. "Yardarm to mizzenmast," it murmured.
Squirrel sighed. Yes, it would be madness to stop now. She lit two, threw them, and watched as they landed silently on the opposite shore. Nothing. Squirrel felt like screaming; she gave a helpless, angry sigh instead. She sat down and hugged her knees, watching the steam rise from the bathhouse. I can only hope you're doing better than I am, boys. I hope you're able to salvage this mess.
A platoon was rounding the corner. And at the head of the men in uniform was a man she knew. Squirrel's breath caught in her throat at the sight of the man in brown. "You," Squirrel stared across the distance at the lean, scarred man. "You're with the Company?"
She'd sworn she'd never set foot on Tortuga again. So when they had returned there, to fulfil the quota Davy Jones had demanded, Squirrel had remained on the Pearl. But when Miss Swann had come and held Jack's compass, Squirrel had hung above their heads, watching from the rigging of another ship. She'd caught glimpse of a man watching from the shadows. A man with the face of a killer. She saw him now, moving as slick as oil as he lead a platoon of men in uniform. They were heading straight for the bathhouse.
They opened the doors silently, and raised their pistols to fire at the oblivious guards.
There wasn't time to doubt. Squirrel lit the final firework and threw it as hard as she could. It landed on the street, in the doorway of the bathhouse and just behind the men. It skittered across the cobblestones, then rolled, rolled, rolled…
There was the sound of a gunshot, and a blinding flash of light.
"Yes!" Squirrel crowed. But it was a short-lived triumph. The sound of the exploding firework prompted - or frightened - the Company men to fire their own weapons. From the bathhouse rose shouts and screams alike as the battle was joined. Through the smoke and the steam, Squirrel could discern little. She needed to get closer.
"Come on," she quickly hauled herself to her feet, undoing the buttons of her shirt and tearing at the cloth that bound her sword as she did so, "Let's get down there and help them out." The time for subterfuge was over. Whether they had managed to secure the charts was a moot point. Now was the time to fight.
The fight was spilling out of the bathhouse and onto the streets. Barbossa led the charge, both swords flashing silver and his laugh loud over the shouts and the screams of the fighters and those not involved. After him came Elizabeth, Will, and a handful of Chinese pirates, all holding their own. The fight was spilling out into the street, but no-one knew whose side anyone was on. The East India Trading Company revelled in the chaos, taking down anyone who got in their way. Whores squealed and ran for cover and merchants abandoned their carts and stalls as Sao Feng's men, the Pearl's crew, and the Company militia clashed with steel and musket shot.
Squirrel slid down from the rooftops, filling the gaps between her fingers with throwing daggers from the sash across her chest. She scanned the crowds quickly, looking for a target. She found the man in brown, that lean killer. He was being followed by another familiar face - one of the Sisters of the Red Flower, one of the whores who worked for Sao Feng. She came up behind him, a knife in her hand, screaming vengeance. The man turned on his heel, took hold of the woman by her shoulders, and threw her against a wall between two stalls. She slumped, stunned, then screamed and tried to rise to her feet to attack him again.
He shot her in the head and moved on.
Squirrel gasped, horrified. You heartless bastard! She grit her teeth and clenched the daggers in her fist tighter.
"To the port side, navvy!" Cotton's parrot cawed in her ear. Squirrel pivoted on her foot and flung one arm wide in a sweeping gesture. The daggers buzzed through the air and imbedded themselves into the uniform of a Company soldier who'd been creeping up on her. The man screamed and staggered, falling into the sea and floundering there.
A large explosion tore the night, and Squirrel cringed and ducked. For a moment, she heard a song playing in her head - that delicate music box - and had the nagging feeling that Tia had something to do with the flames and smoke that were rising from the streets close to the bathhouse.
Figures, Squirrel thought wryly, I get fake fireworks, and she says that's all I need. But she's able to blow up half the city?
The monkey chattered from somewhere to her left. Squirrel looked over, and saw Jack waving to her. With a brief glance towards Barbossa, who was making his way across a bridge in her direction, she ran to join Jack, the parrot fluttering after her. "What is it? What's wrong?"
The monkey grinned, and held up something in his arms. It was nearly as big as he was. He chattered proudly as Squirrel took the large firework from him.
She stared a moment. "Where on earth did you get that?"
The monkey pointed across the water. Squirrel peered through the night. It didn't look any different. Just another kampong, a warehouse down by the water. But there were crates stacked outside and on the balcony, and strings of fireworks hung from the rafters and the beams.
Squirrel looked between the monkey, the warehouse, and the firework she held in her hand. And then, slowly, a grin crossed her face. "Good boy," she murmured.
The shouts and cries from the streets grew louder, and closer. Barbossa's dark form cut its way across the platforms and bridges of the kampongs, ever closer to her. Company soldiers were converging all around him. There were too many here, and more on the way.
Squirrel clenched the firework in her fist. "Let's even up this fight a little, shall we?" She knelt down, placed the firework carefully on the railing, and sighted along it until it was aimed straight for the warehouse.
Cotton's parrot bobbed up and down on her shoulder, then leapt off to do a short dance on the railing. "Prime the cannons!" It cackled, "Ready, aim, fire!" Jack leapt from her shoulder, clambered up to one of the lanterns, and returned a moment later with the candle in his grip. He grinned his simian grin; Squirrel grinned back.
"Would you like to do the honours, my friend?" The monkey bowed, then set the flame to the string.
"Fire in the hold!" Cotton's parrot laughed, flapping its wings.
The string hissed as it burned, and then the whole firework shot out and away, screaming over the water and through the combatants, leaving a plume of red fire behind it. Squirrel held her breath as she watched it fly over the bridge, between Barbossa and a soldier, then she let out a crow when the night was torn apart by light and fire and noise. The whole fireworks warehouse was engulfed in a rosy bloom of orange and yellow and white, and spat off sparks of every colour and hue into the night air.
"Yes!" Squirrel pumped a fist in the air; Cotton's parrot flapped his wings and crowed; the monkey leapt up and down.
After dispatching his opponent, Barbossa glanced over from where he stood, a grin on his face. "Thank ye, Jack." He nodded his head, adding, "And t' ye too, angel. Good t' see ye're still with us."
Squirrel watched the fire burn and spread a moment longer, then drew her sword and hurried to Barbossa's side, the parrot perched on one shoulder and the monkey on the other. Barbossa gave her a curious look as she approached.
"What happened?" A shadow cast by the brim of his hat seemed to make his ice-blue eyes glow and glitter. If there was any time at all that the man Squirrel knew from the stories, and the man she'd known from the voyage, could possibly converge, then this man here, tonight, was him. Captain Hector Barbossa.
Squirrel shrugged stiffly. "Unforseen complications. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Barbossa grinned suddenly. "This be the most fun I've had in years!" He laughed, then pushed Squirrel aside. His sword flew, ringing pure and silver against the blade of the Company officer who had followed behind her. Squirrel raised her own sword, and fought with a man that came from around the corner behind Barbossa. The man looked startled to be fighting a woman; Squirrel took advantage of that, and slammed the hilt of her sword in his face. The man fell backwards, vaulting over the edge of the platform and landing in the sea.
"Time to get out of here?" She asked Barbossa conversationally, as he, too, finished off his opponent.
"Aye," he nodded, leading her on through the shadows, "But a ship and a crew might come in handy fer that!"
"A pity that that's what we're lacking!"
Elizabeth and the rest of the crew arrived from around the corner. The crew looked to Squirrel, relieved; she nodded to them, glad for their concern and glad to see them, as well. Squirrel glanced to Elizabeth, if only for politeness' sake, then halted, scandalised. "What are you wearing?"
Elizabeth looked humiliated. "They took my clothes." She tugged at the hem of the Chinese jacket with one hand, trying to cover herself a little more decently. Squirrel gave a 'humph', then turned back and concentrated on the chaos around them. She was just in time to see Will emerge from the shadows, a handful of Chinese warriors at his heels and a long bamboo scroll clutched in one of his hands. Squirrel's eyes locked onto it, and her mouth went dry.
Davy Jones' Locker.
Barbossa looked and sounded surprised. "Ye got the charts?"
Will nodded. "And a ship and a crew as well," he motioned to the men behind him. One of the men nodded in silent, stoic agreement.
"What about Sao Feng?" Elizabeth asked, worried. Musket shot and swords clashing still tore through the night behind them; cannon fire from the ships in the harbour tore up the kampongs and dockside buildings further along the coast.
"He will stay behind and cover our escape," Will said calmly, "And he'll meet up with us at Shipwreck Cove." His eyes flicked briefly to Squirrel; she smiled knowingly at him.
Making a deal with Sao Feng beforehand was quite convenient for us, ey, William? It had been organised before with Sao Feng that William would claim the charts. Squirrel, Sao Feng and Will had planned this - the two ang moh knowing the ends, and the Chinese lord providing the means. In exchange for Jack Sparrow, Sao Feng had promised the charts. And it looks like he came through with his part of the deal.
Now it's just up to us to uphold ours. Squirrel's smile vanished, and she felt her heart clench cold.
"Very well. Let's go," Barbossa lead the way through the night. Squirrel sheathed her sword, and started to follow behind him with the rest of the crew. But she paused a moment, and looked back. Elizabeth and Will stood, staring at each other. Squirrel frowned slightly at the look that passed between the two of them. Then Will took his fiancée by the arm and led her onward, after the rest of the crew, down to the docks.
Don't betray us, William, Squirrel thought darkly as the two of them passed her. We've come too far to go back now. She spared a final glance to the streets of Singapore, bidding them farewell, before she, too, turned her back on them.
Singapore wasn't the end of it. It was just the beginning.
Dreams are disappointing things sometimes, Squirrel thought with distaste, When they come true.
The ship moored in the harbour was one of those Asian ships she'd admired when they first arrived in Singapore. But it was anything but beautiful. Squirrel's excitement had all but vanished. This ship had none of the delicacy or grace or clean-cut lines of the other junks in the harbour. This ship was broken and old and patched in every possible place. The sails had fist-sized holes punched in them at every span. The ropes were old and worn. The rivets and moorings and caps were rusted near through. It stank of fish. Squirrel doubted if the thing could even float in open water. This junk was, to put it plainly, a complete junk.
Yet they called it the Hai Peng. The Sea Phoenix.
It would take a very large fire to have anything decent reborn out of this mess, Squirrel thought morosely. But it was a fitting-enough name. Sao Feng had told her of dragons and phoenixes not too long ago.
As Singapore slid away in the darkness behind them, Squirrel slowly felt her discomfort vanish. Perhaps she'd been too harsh in her original judgement of the Hai Peng. Of course, it wasn't the prettiest ship, or even very well maintained. Her sails were torn, her planking was loose, and her timbers were warped. She obviously had not been treated with much care, and looked not to have much life left in her. But she was a ship. And Squirrel felt free for the first time in over a week. Land was not the place for her. It was the sea she called her home. And on the open water was where she felt truly free.
Here's to freedom, then, Squirrel thought. Please last a little while longer, for my sake? She crossed her fingers of one hand, and rapped her knuckles against the railing with the other, then smiled wryly to herself before turning back to the ship.
Will stood near her, looking darkly back to Singapore. The flames from the distant burning warehouses reflected in his eyes, and he held the charts tightly in both hands. Squirrel approached him, smiling.
"So… now we have the charts, and we're out of Singapore," she said, her voice low but merry. "Who would have thought it would have been so easy?" Will didn't answer her; he brooded in silence. Squirrel hesitated a moment, glancing around to check that none could overhear her, then she continued. "Sao Feng came through with his end of the bargain. Surprising. I didn't think he could be trusted. But it's a pleasant surprise, and to our advantage as well, so I'm not complaining."
Will still said nothing. Squirrel followed his gaze across the water. The war brigs of the East India Trading Company were moored all about Singapore harbour, but none of them seemed to notice the lone Asian vessel gliding through the shadows and the night. There was more than enough to worry about on shore.
"Looks like we're slipping through their net again." She laughed, but Will didn't laugh with her. He just tightened his grip on the charts slightly and set his shoulders.
Squirrel sighed, puzzled at his behaviour, then recalled something. "William, here." She pulled something from her sash. "I believe these are yours. Don't worry; I took good care of them."
Will finally looked at her - or rather, in her direction. His eyes focused intently on the two wedding rings that hung from the leather band. Will had left them in her care, before this night had begun. He now accepted them, and held them in his open palm a moment, staring at them.
Squirrel bit her lip. There was something she needed to say to him, but she didn't know how to start. How do you thank someone from saving you from rape? She tried to find the words, then smiled and decided to speak her mind. Will was her friend. He'd understand. "William, there's no way for me to express how grateful I am. You showed up just at the right time." For a moment, the memory Xin Fu's men cast a pallor over Squirrel's slowly-buoying mood. She banished the thought by tracing her eyes across the shape of Will's face. She smiled again. "I can always count on you to save the day, William. You're still a knight in shining armour."
"This has to stop."
His words weren't harsh, and neither was his tone. But Squirrel froze as though he'd struck her.
Will clenched his fist around the rings; the leather band hung down from between his knuckles. "This can't continue, Miss Grey. This has to stop. I can't… I can't be seen with you any more." He glanced to her, finally tearing his eyes away from the darkness. But his eyes were dark in themselves.
"I appreciate all you've done to help me," he said, gesturing with the charts, "But…" He shook his head and turned away from her. His eyes went to the prow, where Elizabeth stood. "But," Will continued, "There's something… I need to be doing with what little time we have left."
Squirrel remained silent.
"If I'm to lose her before this voyage's end," Will said, his voice barely a breath, "Then I need the chance to say goodbye to her. This… this thing between us… It can't continue. This has to stop, Miss Grey." He kept talking, about how he still needed her help, but the words seemed dull to Squirrel's ears. What he'd said already was more than enough.
"I understand." Squirrel felt herself speak the words, but they seemed to be coming from somewhere else. They sounded so calm, and came from an emotionless face. She wanted to scream, or cry, or rage, or something. He was pushing her away, casting her aside after all she'd done. Ignoring - forsaking - their friendship, their closeness, their plans. And for what? Elizabeth? That man-stealing, fickle, faithless trollop? Why? Why?
Because he loves her.
Will turned to Squirrel, hearing something in her voice. His eyes filled with apology, with a plea to be understood. But Squirrel would have none of it. She turned and walked away from him, before either he or she said anything further. She didn't want his apology; she didn't need his sympathy. He'd said his peace, and it was time for her to accept it.
But she'd be damned if she did without a fight.
You should have just left me to my fate if you had planned on being so cruel, Will, Squirrel thought bitterly. Why save me to do this to me? I thought, at least, that you valued our friendship. Seems I was wrong.
She went to the prow and stared out over the black water, at the blackness where no stars shone and no waves could be seen. Just blackness. She folded her arms tight against the cool of the wind, and hunched her shoulders tight. She wanted to shrink into nothing and be lost. And it wasn't as though she would be missed by anyone. Everyone had their friends to look out for. Squirrel had no-one.
A woman of the sea will always be alone. I was foolish to think otherwise.
Behind her, Squirrel heard the crew moving about the ship, standing at their stations and pushing the Hai Peng further and further into the night. She smelled herbs on the wind, and knew that Tia Dalma was standing nearby. Squirrel half-glanced sideways, and saw the voodoo woman staring out to sea on the port side. Elizabeth came up and stood beside Tia. Squirrel turned and glared back at the night.
"There's nowhere left for Sao Feng to cower. Do you think he will honour the call?" The lovely Miss Swann's voice grated on Squirrel's raw nerves, but Squirrel waited to hear what Tia's answer would be.
"I cannot sey. Dere is evil on deh seas dat even deh most staunch and bloodt'irsty pirates 'as come to feer." Neither woman spoke again; when Squirrel glanced around again, Elizabeth had vanished. Most likely to find some decent clothes.
Tia looked away from the sea and caught Squirrel's eye. She frowned slightly at the hard expression on Squirrel's face, but said nothing. Squirrel tightened the fold of her arms and looked out at the night.
Tia's dressed swished lightly, like foam on the seashore, across the Hai Peng's deck; something heavy landed at Squirrel's feet. A satchel, that contained all that Squirrel could not carry with her. "Yeh left your t'ings in my care, Miss Greeh. I t'ink you'll fin' dey're all dere."
"They'd better be," Squirrel muttered darkly.
Tia came and stood at Squirrel's left. For once, she wasn't smiling knowingly, or trying to appear to be wise. "I would 'ave t'ought you would 'ave been glad to get deh charts, Miss Greeh. Now we're one step closer to freein' deh poor Sperrow." She tilted her head, and waited.
Squirrel did not even deign to answer.
Tia looked at Squirrel plainly, frankly, perhaps even motherly. "You 'ave enough to worry about as it is wit'out addin' burdens to your soul, Miss Greeh. Whatever it is dat binds your wings, let it go."
Squirrel gave a short humourless laugh. "'Let go what binds my wings'? Tia, sometimes your riddles are completely ridiculous."
"Is true enough," Tia didn't smile. "But den, so is deh trut' of what you are. Deh only reason you are not free is because you wrap yourself in chains. An' you be deh oonly one dat ken free yerself."
"Leave me alone, woman," Squirrel stared stubbornly out at the sea.
Tia sighed, and started to turn away. A second later, she turned back, as though remembering something. "Dat box of mah-jong tiles," the dark-skinned sibyl said gently, "Will you be needin' it?"
Squirrel shrugged faintly. "If you want it, take it. I don't feel much like games any more." Especially not games that remind me of what a wretch I am. "Just don't be using them to tell the future, or any rubbish like that."
"T'ankyou for your generosity," Tia said wryly, kneeling and pulling the box of tiles free from the satchel.
Squirrel was reminded of the glass bottle at her belt, at the debt she still owed Tia. "Does this mean we're even?"
But Tia laughed, and rattled the box in her hands. "No, Miss Greeh. You still 'ave not peyed what you owe just yet. But soon… Soon, you will get deh chance to settle all of yer accounts at once."
"Good to hear it." Squirrel stared out over the water. She felt Tia rest a hand on her shoulder, but shrugged it off. She wasn't about to be comforted. Not now. And not by her.
"Don' stare too long into deh darkness, chil'," Tia murmured as she walked away, "Dat which we stare long into can become a part of ourself."
Squirrel's lip quirked slightly, more a sneer than a smile.
The Hai Peng sailed on through the night, over waters which seemed thick and lifeless and under skies which seemed cold and unfeeling. The wind was strangely chill, and clawed its way through the holes in the sails and the gaps in clothing. The darkness and the cold seemed to pervade all. There was a strange silence that had fallen over the crew. Everyone moved silently, speaking softly as they went about their duties, as though under strain. No-one seemed to notice the single figure standing sentinel at the prow. They were all too busy doing their duties, so she was left alone.
Squirrel endured it. She told herself it was better than being pitied.
A/N: Just in case you were wondering, or are new here, angst is my favourite flavour. More coming soon. Questions, suggestions, comments? Click the review button and say hi.