"How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean." - Arthur C. Clarke
Rowena stood atop the quarterdeck of the
Lilivus with her arms crossed over her bodiced belly. The air was sticky with a coming storm, and the air was hotter than the devil's mouth. She didn't mind it. Her mind was sharp, focused, searching.
Below the new hired crew of the
Lilivus were searching through crates. They thought they were alone. She was dark-haired and of darker complexion, a result of years in the sun, and stalking came easy to the merc. She didn't like this new crew. The captain was a brilliant woman, and Rowena had learned more from her than she had in all her years at the private girls' school in Ireland. How the captain could hire these slimy liverwarts was beyond her.
She didn't know where the boys from the original crew had gone, and she didn't care at the moment. Right now, she wanted to slide her sword between the ribs of each of these thieves, to skewer them like the rats in Shanghai and roast them over a pit.
The tavern nearby was still bright and loud, even as the moon sank over the town. Rowena had considered rolling over a few drunks and talking among the locals. Perhaps there was a better crew that could use her skills - and could protect her booty better than these fish lice. She didn't want to be associated with these scoundrels that had joined the same day she had.
But then, she could kill them, and then that would partially take care of the issue at hand.
She decided against leaping onto another failing ship. The morons below had opened a barrel of oranges and were eating away at the reserves. One even threw a slightly limp orange into the ocean nearby. Okay then. Her mind was made.
She didn't touch the sword at her hip. Instead, she laid three pistols from her hips and boot on the railing and loaded them. With the small exception of a
click as metal met metal, she was silent. There were four thieves and three guns. Excellent odds for Rowena. She picked off the farthest target and the clumbering moron who'd tossed the orange first. By then, the last two realized what was happening. She picked off the third thief before he could move. The fourth hid behind the barrel and ducked. Rowena grinned, unsheathed her sword, and stepped down.
He rolled the barrel at her with a kick and lifted his own gun, fumbling to load it. Rowena had not expected that. She didn't care. She removed a throwing knife from her bodice and thew it, landing the blade in the hollow of his collar. The last thief gurgled blood as he fell atop spilled oranges, making a ghastly stench of citrus, iron, blood, and piss.
Well, now she really should get off the ship. She was careful not to step in the mess, but she did snatch their coin purses and a ring from the first moron. She gasped as it seemed to glow for a moment. Certainly it was a reflection from the quarter moon. Rings did not glow. She put it out of her mind and strode toward the music and glowing windows.