Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

about that whole Shaman talk the crew is mumbling, but I do know whatever you did to me requires incredible talent. And if you faced the Taoiseach once before, then you can do it again. Go in there with confidence, lad, because you have the talent to back it.”

Shaman? Go in there with confidence. “What are you saying, sir?”

“Well, I can’t bloody blackmail you after you saved my life. It ain’t right.” He raises his left arm and wiggles his fingers. “I will never be able to repay you for this.” He places that hand upon his chest. “Or this.” He thumps his hand gently over his heart.

A silent moment passes between us. I don’t know how to tell him. And for all I know, it could change his mind about me. But it wouldn’t be right to let him believe he owes me his life. “Captain, sir. I have something to confess. I didn’t save you.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Captain…I know what it feels like to regenerate the wounded, and it wasn’t the same with you. It…it was different somehow. Not the same as when I regenerated all those small animals as a child or when I tried to help Jay.”

“Lad, I know when I opened my eyes you were the one hovering over me. I don’t care whether you felt all warm and tingly inside or as empty as an angler’s flask when the fish ain’t runnin’. You did something to keep me going, and I’m thankful for that.” Crowbill pauses then opens his mouth to say something more, but he hesitates.

“Sorry for mocking you just now. About crying and all.” Not that his thick skin can’t deflect it, but I feel the need to apologize.

“That’s something you’re going to have to corral now that you’re in the capital, lad. You’re not angling with a few soggy-footed cutthroats anymore. You’re stepping into the lion’s den where comments like that will leave you belly up in some back alley in a puddle of your own entrails. The Crimson Capital ain’t a place for a high-born orphaned fugitive who’s looking for revenge. Now that it ain’t forced, the offer to continue upriver is, and always will be on the table if you want to be a part of the Phish Skooler.”

“No thank you, Captain, sir. Your crew is nearly enough to tilt my decision, but you…” I place a hand on his shoulder and try to withhold a smile. “…no thanks.” And I disappear into the cabin.

I should still be furious at this man. Only moments ago, I was unsure where he stood with me. He let weeks go by without a word about it. He befriended me, gave me guidance as I continued the duties of deckhand—they wouldn’t let me touch the booms again—but never once did he tell me he had the heart to let me get back to my freedom. I had the impression I would have to risk my life to get off his boat. But somehow, I knew. I knew as the Crimson Harbor came into view I was going to walk off this ship. Not swim. Not flee. Walk.

Whether the crew recognized Captain Crowbill’s extortion or not remains unknown. I pack my few belongings—a cloak, a nearly empty purse, and Life Bringer—and several of the crew interrupt me to say their farewells. It’s a quick goodbye. Fika offered them an afternoon to satisfy their fancies and tidy up their debts before setting off upriver toward the sockeye run. So, many of them eagerly disappear into the horde about the port.

I approach the captain, who’s still holding up the rail, and speak in a somber tone. “I must find my sister.”

“I know, lad. I know. And after all I’ve put you through, you still have quite an adventure ahead of you. Remember, you’ll always have a place on the Phish Skooler shall we meet up again. And a word of advice…”

“Yes,” I say apprehensively.

“Steer clear of the Academy. Those students are the Taoiseach’s soldiers-in-training, and he has a tight leash on all of ‘em. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll be discovered if you get too close. If one of them discovers you, the Taoiseach discovers you. Be careful, lad.”

“I’ll consider your advice, but I don’t know if I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice. Do you have a semblance of where to start?”

“Uh…” I scratch my head and look out over the Crimson Harbor. There are cranes loading vessels, and hand carts transferring back and forth to carriages, unloading and loading goods. Ox-drawn carriages scurry off into the city beyond while citizens scuttle about everywhere—some working, some peddling. And the buildings are large and small, more than I can count. The multitude of it all is overwhelming. I suppose there is much opportunity, but the more people I talk to, the more vulnerable I am. “Uh…the Taoiseach’s Manor,” I answer.

Captain Crowbill bellows out a big laugh. “Yeah, try walking up to those walls and asking to get in. I’m sure they’ll give you a pardon while you’re at it.” He pats me on the back then raises it to twiddle his digits, admiring his newly acquired hand. “How about Madrone’s Mistress. Those girls have an ear for all the sailors and drifters visiting the capital. If your sister is here, one of them is likely to know, but it’ll cost you a rib or two. Here. To get you started.” He tosses me a bag of coin. Judging by the weight, he’s given me enough for multiple visits to Madrone’s Mistress.

“Th-thanks, Captain.”

“I’m no longer your captain. Call me Fika.”

“Thank you, Fika.” I shake his hand firmly, and he does the same in return.

He pulls me in and embraces me with a sturdy pat on the back. “Thank you, Stone. Thank you.”

I disembark the ship to start my indefinite