2,047 Wages

She hadn’t realized that Ferrin was so young.

Ferrin had been on the island before she was born. Diara remembered mother saying something about him arriving to Duskrik the same year dad’s favorite work horse died, and Berna would have been three at the time so...about 17 years ago. She thought long and hard, Ferrin couldn’t have been older than her cousin Richard who was about 35? She couldn’t be sure.

Either way it wasn’t often that a man under 35 had a missing fore-arm and an eye patch.

Diara was sitting by the window in her room. The house was silent as a graveyard. Her grandfather was due to return tomorrow (she hoped) and her mother was looking after Aunt Seline (or rather looking after each other) in the country.

A candle illuminated her tanned face in the dim of the evening.

The harbor was deserted, the only sign of movement on the street was the flicker of lanterns hanging outside the empty businesses.

How long had she been sitting there? She wasn’t sure, but the numbness in her bum told her too long.

Every once and awhile one of Diara’s limbs would twitch or she would rapidly strum against the little creaky table. She sucked on her lip, she had tugged on some dry skin too hard and now it was bleeding. Diara curled and then stretched her toes. But all the movements and twitching had escaped her notice, far too busy focusing on the harbor.

It had been days. Almost a whole week since her older sister, Berna had been taken aboard The Shadow Emperor. Why did the pirate attack have to be a week before Ferrin’s return to Duskrik?

Diara rested her forehead against her knees and sighed deeply.

The house had been so lifeless since Berna’s kidnapping; it didn’t help that Grandpa wasn’t there either but he was trying to find a way to get Berna back. Although they all knew deep down there was nothing the old candle maker could do against a group of ruthless ruffians who were probably thousands of miles away now.

Soon Smudge, Diara’s brown tabby entered the room and hopped onto the table and rubbed against Diara’s dark waves.

Lifting her head Diara was greeted by bright green eyes and felt comforted again. Taking her sweet guardian in her arms she kissed his squishy soft head and felt his purrs rumble against her chest.

Her small hand stroked his head as she gazed back out the window.

Diara’s heart skipped a beat.

There was Ferrin’s merchant ship, The Tally-Ho with its long oak body in the harbor.

Placing Smudge on the bed she ran to a faded green chest.

Diara propped the lid open with one arm as she rummaged through her gowns. She probably should have gotten it out earlier.

Where was the forest green one?

She sighed in exasperation as she fumbled. Tossing gowns onto the faded wooden floor, she leaned deeper into the chest. She moved her hand, the lid slamming her back as she used both hands to search.

Diara felt the soft linen dress at the bottom and yanked it out.

She rushed to the window.

A tall cloaked figure wearing a hat was walking into The Colossal Clam Inn.

Diara clutched the dress to her chest. Heartbeats thundering in her ears. She put her hand on the table, closing her eyes and taking slow breaths.

She needed to relax, Ferrin wouldn’t be going anywhere, not yet anyways.

Diara took off her night gown and put on the long green one. She opened a drawer in her vanity and took out a brown sash and tied it about her waist.

Sitting down at her vanity she took a green hair ribbon she put her hair in a low ponytail. The small fabric could barely fit around her thick waves. A few strands fell out and framed her face.

Diara sat a moment and looked at her reflection. There were dark spots under her eyes, her hair was somewhat frizzy due to lack of care, and her lips were cracked and there was even a red line from her constant biting. Berna’s kidnapping had really taken it’s tole, and it showed.

Looking at Smudge who looked bored as he laid on her bed, “Do I look at least somewhat presentable?”

Smudge got up and stretched on her wool blanket and let out a meow.

“Some help you are.”

Diara rose, took the candle, and went down the hall to the tiny house library. It was dark save for the candle. Getting on her knees and reaching under her reading chair she pulled out a heavy leather pouch. Diara closed her eyes and sighed. Other than going to her father’s burial, this was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But it would be more than worth it if it meant she could have her sister back.

Diara bounded down the stairs.

Smudge was sitting by the front door of the little home, waiting patiently; the loyal friend that would be there when things were stormy like the weather often was in Duskrik. Smudge would follow her to the ends of the earth, he was not one to laze about if Diara was away from home. He followed her everywhere. Mama called him her little shadow.

Diara blew out the candle and walked out the door, her hood up, leather pouch under her cloak, and Smudge close behind her.

The streets were still wet from the earlier storm, the puddles glistened in the lantern light. The moon was covered by clouds, making the street seem unwelcoming and shadowy.

Standing in front of The Colossal Clam Inn’s door made her feel like a child. What if Ferrin wouldn’t help Diara? What if what little she had in her pouch wasn’t enough to convince him to help Diara’s family?

Diara’s face was grim. Fears clawed at her but when she thought about it, she didn’t have much choice. Her grandfather could only go to the capital and she knew they wouldn’t do anything. Swinford was not known for caring about what happened to the towns around them. The Ocean Templar’s still hadn’t returned from their latest daring rescues and no one knew when they’d return. Ferrin was the only one who could have any chance of finding The Shadow Emperor and hopefully get her sister back too. Diara sighed, no matter what, she would find a way to pay him.

She looked down at Smudge, who seemed to sense her distress. He rubbed against her ankle and meowed. Then he gently headbutted her leg.

Diara sighed and opened the door, blinking at the harsh firelight.

Inside the inn was cozy and welcoming. Everything inside reminded Diara of an old house: Old oak chairs, tables and a few booths, a large fire in the hearth, a couple of paintings of Mr. Clark’s parents (also known as the original owners of The Colossal Clam Inn.)

If Diara hadn’t been in such distress her mouth would be watering.

In the back of the inn’s dinning area were two men at a booth, Mr. Clark, with his dark skin and kind eyes, and then Ferrin with his warm brown eye and thick beard. Both stared, surprised at the two small figures of Diara and Smudge.

Diara’s breathing was shallow, and her heart thudded in her ears. Under the gazes of both men she felt less like a fourteen year old and more like a small child. She clutched her leather pouch tighter.

But she swallowed the lump in her throat at the thought of Berna. She was here for Berna. She had to be bold for Berna.

Straightening and pulling back her hood she marched into the inn, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but would it be possible for me to speak with you Mr. Ferrin?”

Ferrin’s looked softened and he beckoned her to sit across him, “Of course.”

Mr. Clark stood up, “May I get you anything Miss Thread? Stew or Rillerberry Ale?”

Diara desperately tried to look calm and ladylike, “No thank you Mr. Clark I won’t be long.”

Diara sat down and said nothing.

Mr. Clark bowed and left to the back room.

Ferrin pushed his stew aside and placed his leather hat on the seat beside him. He stared at Diara, pain reached his eyes when he saw the darkness under her eyes and the look of exhaustion on her face, “I heard about Berna, I’m sorry. If there is anything I can do-

“That’s why I’m here actually,” Diara struggled to keep her voice steady. She could barely hold still her insides were shaking violently,” she plopped the bag. The obsidian chips clattering inside, “I know you’ve helped other folks. Mrs. Wittle told us about how you saved her daughter and grandchildren from the Agoised’s in Crullford. Mr. Walton told us how you tracked down the thieves who took his horses and returned them. I know this is a lot to ask but, could you find Berna? Or at least try?”

Ferrin stared at Diara, unmoving, “That’s a tall order Miss Thread.”

“I know. But-

“I’m afraid I can’t promise that I’ll get her back; although I give you my word that I will do all that I can to get her back.”

Diara smiled, relieved, “I understand.”

Ferrin looked down at the bag and opened it. Eyes wide as dinner plates and choking on air Ferrin leaned on the table, the open bag in front of him. Finally he composed himself, “Miss Thread this is at least

“It’s 2,047 wages exactly.”

“Miss Thread where did you get this?”

“Lots of odd jobs, and gifts from my Aunt Seline, five years worth.”

Ferrin furrowed his brow and shook his head in disbelief; but snapping out of his trance stared at Diara, as if he was trying to see into her skull and then he stared at her hands. After what seemed like years he nodded to himself.

Diara squirmed under his gaze. She felt very much like a bug being examined by a curious child.

She was desperate to move on, “If this isn’t enough I will find ways to get-

Ferrin waved his hand, “No, no,” he closed the bag and pushed it toward her, “I don’t accept money.”

“...I beg your pardon?” Diara couldn’t believe her ears. Suspicion filled her thoughts, “Wait a minute, you won’t accept payment? Yet you’re going after a famous pirate ship...what’s the catch?”

“I never said I won’t accept payment. I said I wouldn’t accept money.”

Diara wasn’t sure she like where this was going, “Then what do you accept?”

“Favors.”

“What sort of favors?”

“Nothing heinous or laborious, just a few things on my ship that need to be delivered: Some tea from the western desert for Mrs. Whittle, some fine linens for Mrs. Clark’s upcoming little one, and few other things. But then I have something important I need you to do for me. Do you know Lily Mattathius?”

“Of course! She sent my mother flowers after Berna was taken.”

Ferrin smiled, “Excellent. You see I visit her daily when I’m here and often take care of her too. She is rather lonely, not many people like socializing with cripples. But while I am away would you watch over her for me? I will be forever in your debt.”

Diara thought for a moment. Ferrin was by far the strangest hero she’d ever met, especially to have 2,047 wages in front of your face and decline them. It boggled her mind.

“Well Miss Thread,” Ferrin began, “will you accept my bargain?”

Was this some sort of scheme? Maybe, but then she remembered the others she had helped and they did nothing but praise Ferrin, but she couldn’t remember if they had said anything about paying him, or if he had asked for anything in return. Either way Diara couldn’t say no. Visiting with a sweet young woman in return for her sister’s return? Seemed like a decent deal. Even if it was a scheme she had 2,047 wages and knew where she could earn more if need be; she should be fine if the things went awry.

Diara couldn’t back out now. She held out her hand, “Mr. Ferrin, you have a deal.”