They’d been on the water for a few days when Harp awoke to the sounds of scuffling above his head. He rolled out of his hammock and climbed the ladder. The sun hadn’t fully risen, but a handful of the boys were on deck, their hair and clothes damp from the spray of the rough waves. They were grouped around a small black- haired boy who was on his hands and knees scrubbing the boards. When the black-haired boy paused in his work, a lanky boy named Merik would kick at him or call him a name.
“What’s going on?” Harp asked Merik. Even though he’d been onboard for less than a tenday, Harp had figured out that Merik was Predeau’s pet. A few of the boys were handpicked as henchmen-in-training, with Predeau taking much pleasure in goading his favorites until they abused the younger and weaker ones of their own accord.
“Predeau said Kitto wasn’t working hard enough,” Merik explained. “He gave us all more shift time.”
Harp looked down at Kitto, who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old. The kid’s arms were shaking with fatigue.
“How long have you been out here?”
Merik shrugged. “Not long enough.”
“He’s supposed to finish the deck?” Harp asked, looking down the length of the ship. Usually it took a crew of five several hours to finish the task.
“Yeah, then we get out of our extra time,” Merik said, kicking at Kitto again. “Work faster, rat-face.”
Harp looked down at Kitto, whose gaze never wavered from the brush in his hands. He scrubbed the deck rhythmically, as if he were some kind of machine. His blank features had no more expression than a mask.
“All right, get back to your jobs,” Harp said firmly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Most of the boys looked relieved, but Merik looked suspicious. “Are ya going to make him finish so we can get out of our time?”
“I’ll tell the captain you did your jobs.”
As the days passed, Harp saw it happen again and again. Merik led the charge against Kitto, who never complained or cried. And hardly spoke, Harp noticed. Merik took his cue from Predeau, who seemed to have a particular dislike of slender, quick-footed Kitto, even though the boy had a reputation for being the best picklock and pickpocket on the crew. Predeau’s men took Kitto with them whenever there was a tricky lock or the need for quick hands in a crowded bazaar. Despite these successful ventures, Predeau hounded Kitto more than anyone else on the ship.
Harp never heard Kitto say a word. After his day’s work ended, the boy would find a quiet corner and hack away at a hunk of wood with a little blade that was barely sharp enough to cut butter. On the few occasions Harp tried to talk to him, Kitto scurried silently away, although Harp once found a crude whistle stuck in the laces of his boots. It played a surprisingly sweet tune.
On the night before Merik’s eighteenth birthday, Harp found him sitting behind a row of barrels, smoking a pipe, and rolling a bone-carved die over and over on the boards beside him. The die landed on the jack-side every single time.
“Have you ever heard Kitto talk?” Harp asked, sitting down beside Merik and pulling out his tobacco pouch.
“Nah, he’s a mute,” Merik said, looking pleased that Harp had joined him. He sat up straighter and tucked the die into his pocket.
“Why does Predeau hate him?”
Merik shrugged. “Cause Kitto’s too stupid to live, you know? All he’s got to do is simple. But he always has to make things hard on himself.”
“How?”
“You know those ‘tails Predeau’s got to use on the prisoners?”
Harp nodded his head. So far he hadn’t witnessed one of the notoriously brutal beatings Predeau unleashed on crew members and prisoners from time to time, but he’d seen the cat-o-nine tails’ distinctive scars on Kitto’s backPredeau’s fingerprint that the child would bear his whole life.
“Usually he likes to do it himself, but sometimes he asks one of us to do the lashes. And you better do it, you know? Kitto had been around. He knew that. But there was a little boy got nabbed with his da. Not like a baby, but you know, younger than Kitto. Predeau hands him the ‘tails and tells him to lash the boy. I think he stole a crust or something. But Kitto wouldn’t even hold the handle, just let it drop to the ground. You should have seen the captain’s face. Three times he put the ‘tails into Kitto’s hand, and three times Kitto lets it drop. Between you and me, it was kind of strong of him to do it, but it was stupid too. He took the kid’s lashes and some more. Captain was furious and made us all pay for what Kitto done, and we hated him for it.”
“Captain Predeau?” Harp asked.
“Kitto. It was his fault.”
“What happened to the boy? “
“The kid? His coin got paid,” Merik said, looking surprised at the question.
“Do you plan to leave after your birthday?” Harp asked, pulling out the small flask of brandy that was the boy’s allotment for the tenday and handing it to him.
Merik shrugged again and uncorked the flask. “I’ve been on the boat since I was thirteen. I hated it so much, I thought I’d die. I was sure I’d leave the day I turned eighteen But now I’m not so sure.”
“There’s nothing for you on the ship.”
“Where would I go? I hate it, but it’s my home, you know?”
Harp sat quietly for a moment before checking over his shoulder to make sure there was no one in sight. They were sitting near the bow of the ship, both of them having finished their shifts before the dinner call. Harp pulled out his dagger and began to clean his fingernails. At the sight of the knife, there was shift in the mood. Merik, used to violence, felt it.
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Merik. I might be wrong, but I don’t think so. Who bought you?”
“What?” Merik asked in confusion.
“Who bought you? Who beats you? Who makes you work like a dog for no pay?”
The boy made a move to get up, but Harp grabbed his wrist and yanked him down hard.
“Who, Merik? Is it Kitto?” He whispered, digging his fingernails into the boy’s dirty arm.
The boy shook his head quickly, obviously shaken by Harp’s unusual intensity.
“Say who it is,” Harp said.
“The captain,” Merik whispered.
“That’s right. And who should you hate?”
Merik tried to wrench his wrist out of Harp’s grasp, but Harp tightened his hand. There were tears in Merik’s dark brown eyes. Harp felt bad about making him cry, but he felt relieved at the same time. At least Merik could still feel something. It might not be guilt exactly, but it was a stone’s throw away from being so.
“Who should you hate? Kitto?”
Merik shook his head again.
“You’ve become a little captain, which makes you more whipped than Kitto. Don’t you get that?”
Merik stopped struggling and slumped against the railing.
“Do you know what you’re going to do on your birthday? You’re going to walk off the ship a free man. And you’re never going to look back. Find a girl, get married, and forget about Captain Predeau. Otherwise he’ll be the voice that whispers in your ear for the rest of your life.”
Harp put his dagger away and helped Merik to his feet. When the boy walked off the ship in the morning, Harp was the only one at the railing to watch him go.
With Merik gone, Predeau searched halfheartedly for a new ringleader. But with Harp around, the other boys were reluctant to turn on each other. They stopped targeting Kitto, kept quiet, and did their work. When Predeau unleashed his wrath, it was at the lot of them, and that seemed easier for the boys to take. Harp counted the days until his tenure was up and worried what would happen to the young sailors when he left.
And then Predeau kidnapped two elves: a blond male and a coppery-haired female. There’d never been any ransoms of anything but human men before, but from his perch in the rigging Harp saw the distinctive slant of the prisoners’ ears, and a feeling of certain dread rose in his chest. Everyone knew that Predeau viewed elves as little more than vermin infesting the land. Harp slid down the mast rope for a better view of the elves, but not far enough to attract the attention of Predeau.
