Chapter 7 Sofie
Chapter seven
Sofie
“I’d like a pen and paper, too,” I said from the makeshift bed where I languished. The constant scratching and ticking of Bluebeard’s writing ought to have been driving me mad. Instead, in my boredom, it was making me jealous.
And also a little angry. I was making virtually no progress with the curse, and I couldn’t even note my findings thus far or collect my thoughts through writing.
“No,” he said without looking up.
Alright, now I was a lot angry.
Jax had no right to take my things on top of my freedom, my bed and the usual peace and quiet I got in the afternoons. Instead, he’d been hunched over the desk for hours, pausing only to call for First Mate Aoki.
“What’s the matter?” I taunted. “Afraid I’ll stab you with a quill?”
He harrumphed. “If I give it to you, will you be quiet?”
“As quiet as the space between your ears.”
“Then no.”
I threw myself back on the blankets, wincing as my shoulder blades connected with the hard planks of the floor through the furs. “What are you doing anyway? Writing a novel? The Dull Tales of Long-Distance Travel.”
“Updating my ledger.”
My brows knit together. “You’re…doing accounting for your pirate ship?”
“My fleet,” he corrected.
“Ah, yes, all two of your ships.”
“This might surprise you, but you don’t know everything.” His voice took on a peevish cant as he said, “I have more than two ships, wife.”
“A wealthy man indeed. Spare your poor wife some paper, ink and a pen?”
Jax’s pen clattered into the metal holder screwed into the desk. At last, he tore his attention away from his bookkeeping. Unfortunately, this caused him to fix it on me.
A slow, devious grin spread across his face. Jax scratched small circles into his short beard, considering something about me that he evidently found hilarious.
“You may have a pen, ink and paper,” he said, “provided you only use them in my presence and return them each night. But you’ll have to earn them.”
I sat up sharply. “I don’t care for that look in your eye, pirate.”
“Relax, sorceress. All I ask in return is a secret for each. There’s nothing to worry about—unless you have something to hide.”
My jaw was tightening so much it ached. “What do you want to know?”
“Why do you fairy godmothers have so much magic when most humans can barely cobble together a simple spell?”
I snorted in derision. “That’s like asking why the best swordsmen are faster and deadlier than everyone else who’s ever picked up a blade. Talent, practice, dedication, and proper instruction. Next question?”
Jax chuckled, then took on an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Oh, did you think you were making the rules here, my dear? That answer won’t suffice.”
I rolled my eyes at his term of endearment, and curled my fingers as if considering making a fist. My arms lay outstretched, my body prone and a little vulnerable. I was almost used to it now.
Sharing a cabin with Captain Bluebeard wasn’t the most comfortable experience. So far, though, he’d kept his word on staying away from my side of the room and giving me privacy when needed. My request that he not leave his clothes and things around had taken a bit of reminding, however.
So while he was starting to earn my trust in practical, daily matters, it was still unwise to let my guard down around him.
Jax was much bigger and stronger than me physically, and on this ship, he commanded all.
He’d taken my freedom, my contact with the outside world, and only the old gods knew what else, all with well-rehearsed ease.
I wasn’t keen on him knowing my mind, too—nor anything about me.
“Fairy godmothers don’t have a great deal of magic,” I told him despite myself, and almost immediately regretted it.
I didn’t like having to explain myself, and especially not to him.
“Not compared to those who came before the old gods vanished and magic grew untamed. We simply specialize better than the rest of the magic-using populace, and hone what powers we have.”
He nodded, taking in this information. I had no idea what was going on in his mind, or what he wanted this knowledge for.
“Then for your second question,” he began, “what do you specialize in, wife?”
“Curses, obviously.”
“Curses,” he repeated, then turned back to his ledger with a resigned heave of his shoulders. “No, I will not buy what you’re selling. Partial truths with not do if you want your prize.”
I sat up, face heating. “I answered your question, pirate!”
“You disclosed commonly known information—information that is freely available on your own wanted poster, no less. That is not the same thing.”
I had a wanted poster? I swallowed through the tightness in my throat.
The royal family of Endergeist had moved quickly indeed.
When we’d docked to take on water and supplies a few days ago—during which time I was not allowed to leave the ship—Jax and his crew must’ve seen them.
Between that and a peculiar series of events in which fireworks were deployed in the center of town and the crew came running back to the docks with jingling pockets, I’m sure I was better off remaining aboard Valiant Strider—which Jax had recently renamed Blue Moon.
I had no idea where we were now, other than heading towards the southern parts of the Prevarian Sea. It made me wonder if anywhere would be safe for me other than Aegle and Dewspell.
“Curses are what I specialize in!” I protested.
“It’s what you do with the magic you have.“ He turned back to face me, batting his dark lashes at my twisted, angry face. “Do you think me a fool?”
“If I answer that honestly, can I have paper and a pen?”
Jax rumbled a brief laugh. “How I treasure these conversations with you. And no. We’ll resume when you’re feeling more…expressive.” Again, he turned back to his work, leaving me seething.
As I searched for something to say that might sway him, the heat drained from my face, along with, I’m sure, much of the color. There was something I could say:
The truth. For he knew more about magic than he had a right to. Enough to know what I was hiding. But how? Had he been educated before turning to a life of piracy?
“You once said there are other places to learn magic besides Dewspell, didn’t you?” I attempted to pry. Thankfully, I sounded awkward rather than pushy. “Did you study?”
Jax looked up from his book, lengthening his neck as if searching for patience in the broad stretch of sky visible through the cabin window. “I’m not the one answering questions here.”
“You did, didn’t you! You know magic.”
His voice was gruff. “I know enough.”
“Where did you study?”
“I did not study. I learned it at my mother’s knee, along with walking and table manners and my letters.”
Trying to hold a conversation with him today was getting frustrating. I should’ve been the one searching for patience. “Fine. Then where did she learn?”
“In the southern wolding.”
My eyes widened. “The City of Nox?”
“There, aye, and also La Ciudad de Nadie.” The speed at which he said the other city’s name left my mind hurrying after him; ah, he was talking about the City of No One, more often called the City of Ghosts.
What a place to learn magic.
“And is that where you were raised?”
“Again, I’m not the one answering questions here,” he grumbled.
“I’ll assume that’s a yes, then.” I tapped my chin. “How does a boy from the coast of the southern Diam Sea end up as a pirate on the Prevarian Sea? That must be some tale.”
“One you just might live long enough to learn.” Jax picked up his pen, signaling an end to the conversation.
I wouldn’t accept it. I needed that pen and paper.
And ink. Mustn’t forget that ink was part of the bargain.
At Dewspell, I’d learned to be so precise with my words when making agreements that it sometimes extended into my thoughts.
My initial deal with Jax had reminded me of how important that was.
I couldn’t let him get anything past me again.
So. Paper, ink, and pen, in exchange for one tiny little secret…
My throat tightened further, as if I physically couldn’t say it.
I forced the words out anyway. “I specialize in chaos magic. It’s why I’m so powerful.
Most of the world’s magic has turned to unfiltered chaos magic, and that is why the average magic user can’t wield it effectively.
But I’m good with chaos. I can shape it.
Make it into elements, or use it to change the elements in the natural world.
Even fire.” I touched my red hair, a vivid shade that wasn’t natural for full-blooded humans.
“I have a bit of dwarvish ancestry to thank for that. Usually it’s a misconception, but in my case my red hair really is from fire mage ancestors. ”
“Fire magic? Now you’re really not allowed anywhere below deck.”
I held in my bubbling anger. Here I was, spilling my closely guarded secrets and ruining any element of surprise I had, and he was making jokes.
Well, mostly. I’m sure he also meant it.
But the manner in which he said it…I’d like to light his ledger on fire with my magic and see how he spoke to me then!
“So. Have I met your requirements?” I asked with a tense jaw. “That is your answer, to both questions.”
“Is it? Spell it out for me like I’m an ordinary fellow who’s never attended a fancy magic school.”
“My specialty is in turning wild magic into elemental magic.”
Bluebeard finished writing, his pen strokes scratching against paper evenly, as if none of this surprised him. Surely that wasn’t the case, though. A gift like mine was exceedingly rare.
At last, he stopped writing, leaned back, and opened the drawer of the captain’s desk with a key I hadn’t seen him produce.
Jax turned, offering me one precious sheet of paper, a spare pen and an ink well. He hadn’t even asked a third question.
Before he could change his mind, I took them as eagerly as a dog takes a scrap of meat from the table. And still he said nothing.
“Thank you,” I said to his back, wincing at myself. I shouldn’t need to fill the silence. I shouldn’t desire a reaction from him, or have the need to impress him. I didn’t need to impress him.
I just…wanted to know what he was thinking.
Instead, he went back to his ledger, crossing something out.
“Oh, and Sofie?” he said at last.
My eye twitched.
“If you try to write in a language or script I don’t know, or attempt to double cross me with so much as a thank you note sent with your magic, boredom will be the least of your troubles.”
“Right. Of course. Should’ve expected that, as your captive.”
I was watching him closely, but even if I hadn’t been, it was obvious that he froze.
“You’re not my captive,” he ground out. “You’re captive to the curse.”
I wanted to laugh.
“You seem like a persuasive man,” I said lightly. “Keep telling yourself that, and one day, you might actually believe it.”
And to that, Captain Jax the Bluebeard had no reply.
This time, I didn’t expect one.