CHAPTER 5

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The Merry | Present Day

The planning of a voyage through the tropics (somewhere they never usually sail) at this time of year (when the storm rate is at its peak) turns out to be quite the time-consuming affair. Not only do they have to factor in the deadly weather and perhaps even deadlier silver sirens that are rife there, but there's also the search itself to contend with.

Enriqué, while having sailed and worked ships before, is clearly no cartographer. According to Slade's navigator, that is. Maybe the man has only ever seen a couple of maps in all his life. The countries of Eddnad and Zuelas are marked on his map, yes, but they really have no clue how far out Slade's red circle is from the shoreline. This childish chart has no measurements or other points of reference, and it seems likely that Enriqué himself was guessing when he'd pointed it out to Az. Not only that, Eddnad and Zuelas are much farther apart in reality than they appear on Enriqué's map.

It takes several days of captain and navigator comparing every chart they have available, and some from neighbouring docked ships, for them to at least have a rough estimation. And even after they have that, factoring in guaranteed storms and likely siren encounters, there remains the issue of where to go when supplies run low.

Slade and his crew are pirates in a business sense of the word, but where they commit crimes and where they do business are two very different parts of the world. After all, it wouldn't do to try to deal in legitimate affairs where everyone knows of their infamy, and conversely, they could never be seen engaging in illegal or otherwise frowned-upon activities in places where Slade tries to maintain a good image. As it currently stands, they have no relations to any of the towns near their assumed hunting spot. Getting the paperwork together for that can take a good amount of time on its own.

Az has next to no interest in any of this technical stuff, but Slade vents loudly, and it's hard not to hear what's going on when he's inches from a breakdown up at the helm every morning. If only he hadn't caused such a scene in town, he could be out there right now finding something interesting to do instead of being relegated to the usual cabin boy duties.

Luck has him wishing soon enough that he hadn't been yearning for something exciting to do.

The Merry has been moored at the port in Varez for eight days now, and even her crew are starting to get bored with the frivolities in town. Az has a fairly good idea of what a lot of the men get up to during their nights off. They would continue to enjoy the nightlife of Varez for weeks if Slade let them, but some of them are quicker to turn their attention elsewhere, and it comes as a surprise to Az that most of them don't actually think with their crotch if given the chance.

It's long after sunset. The sky is the colour of ink. The crew is sleepy from the unusually filling meal Noah cooked earlier — a rare blessing from being stuck in one place for so long. Az washes up the dishes while Noah scrubs his pots and pans, taking extra care with the soup pot which is brand new and something Noah can't seem to stop admiring.

A sheet has been nailed to a beam along the ceiling, stretching the breadth of the galley to at least give the semblance of separation between where the food is cooked and where it's eaten. Beyond the stained fabric, Az can hear light chatter, laughter, and disbelief at something he missed. It reminds him of home, in a way. The better parts of it at least.

The ship is wood and metal where Az's home had been made of clay and mud, with only wood to support the archways and make up the shutters. At night, wood on water creaks and chitters. His square-shaped home had been solid and unyielding, but a breeze at night might whisper through the open shutters. And during moments like this where it's dark and cramped, where he is in one place and everyone else is somewhere else but he can hear them all the same, he can't help but compare it.

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