Go Home

To Rue Waterby, there was little worse than a breathless summer’s night in a crowded tavern with a tone-deaf bard. The ale in her tankard had long since lost the chill that made it drinkable, now sitting there with the same sweaty appeal as the thick, humid smell of bodies and beer. On top of it all, her hand at the card game was the crappiest she’d been dealt in a long time. No, there wasn’t much worse.

Unless, of course, it was the thought of walking home, alone, to the dark little house perched on the edge of the slums she’d lived in for the last two years. It was a quiet area - too quiet, if you asked her - and the silence was dangerous. Silence let the fear bubble up and the memories start creeping in.

She could deal with cramped seats and caterwauling a little while longer.

Cheating, however, she would not tolerate.

“So help me, Jes, you take that ace out of your sleeve or I will shove it up somewhere the sun don’t shine.”

The brawny half-orc Jes leveled his infuriatingly eternal smirk at her and chuckled. “I’d like to see you try, girly. You can’t prove anything.”

She could and she would. A few more rounds passed as they both brooded, then the storm broke.

“How do I know you’re not the one cheating?!” Jes demanded over the muttering of the rest of the table.

“You’ve played the same suit three times in one game, rather convenient, don’t you think?” Rue splayed her fingers out over her flipped cards protectively. Her winning ace just so happened to perfectly match his. “Remind me, isn’t this a one deck play?”

He and his friend, a craggy faced human, exchanged a glance.

“I thought so.” She smirked, reaching for the gleaming pile of coin in the middle. “I’ll be taking this.”

Jes’s huge, green-tinted hand locked around her wrist. “You’ll do no such thing.”

She didn’t give him the luxury of rethinking his action. With a violent twist, she jerked out of his grasp and launched over the table in a flying tackle. They fell backwards in a mess of limbs and splintering chair legs, nearly upsetting the table. Their gamemates jumped up, shouting at them both.

The onlookers quickly devolved into teams as they cheered on either the hulking orc or the tenacious half-elf, clearing a haphazard ring in the middle of the floor.

Rue paid them no heed. She was fast, landing the first dozen punches while Jes struggled to orient himself. It didn’t take him long. A meaty fist connected to her unprotected ribs, and her breath escaped with a gasp. She threw an elbow into his nose and scrambled to a standing defense, ready to dart in and teach him not to mess with an angry girl.

Two strong, furry arms grabbed under her shoulders and yanked, trapping her arms uselessly and pressing her back into a solid chest. The force lifted her clear off her feet, and she struggled against whoever dared interrupt. Jes clutched his bleeding nose as he braced himself against the counter. “I’m not finished with you yet!” Rue shrieked above the commotion.

Guy, the proprietor, and her oldest acquaintance in Tralco, jumped up on the counter between the bleeding Jes and the restrained Rue.

“What in hells is happening here?!” The halfling thundered, bringing a swift end to the cheering.

The only sounds to follow were the fighter’s heavy breathing and the bard in the corner plucking agitatedly at a broken string of his lute.

“Well?”

“He-

“She-”

“The ship rat accused Jes of cheating.” Jes’s crony said from the table.

“Were you?” Guy asked the orc.

Jes grunted, hand still to his nose.

“Shape up or ship out, hear? I don’t tolerate sore players in my bar. The girl won that hand fair and square.”

Rue let out a huff of disgust. The dirty cheat was getting off far too easy.

Guy looked down at her, still bear-hugged by the lion man, with a look of disappointment that smacked against her boiling blood like ice water. “Go home.” He ordered wearily.

“But he-”

“Go. Home.”

She wrenched herself out of the grasp of her captor and shot a glance over her shoulder. The leonin stood unmoved in the heat of her withering glare, brushing his hands on the comically small, dishwater-soaked apron tied around his waist.

“Guy’s paying you to be a bouncer now too?” She growled.

He looked long and hard at her. “I do that part for free.”

It was a losing battle. Rue relented with a huff, tossing her thick hair over one shoulder. Grabbing a fistful of coins from her winnings at the table, she shot Guy a flippant look. “Put the rest toward my tab.” And with as much dignity as her smarting pride could muster, she stalked from the tavern into the breathless evening.

A few curious heads followed her out the door, and her sharp ears heard one whisper, “Zandeer trash.”

She took her time swaggering around the corner, only dropping the ruse to kick at an empty crate when she was out of eyeline. Drowning dragons, of all the nights to deal with this…

The crate was sturdier than anticipated, and she bit back a bark as her toes crunched in her boot. “Flaming… hells!” She hissed furiously.

“Go home.” Guy’s order stung against a part of her heart she tried to keep buried.

Right, like that hovel she’d holed up in the last two years could be considered home. It was never home. This city could never be home. Her home was on the sea, flying over the waves and outpacing the gulls.

The merchant’s quarter and east commons passed under her feet with hardly a thought. She nearly tripped into the river that cut through town before coming to an abrupt halt. The river wove its way around the governor’s mansion before racing out to sea. She followed the path of it, watching its dark waters meet the harbor under the bone white moon.

“Go home.” Rue whispered to herself. “Fine. Maybe I will.”

Two years in Tralco had done nothing to change her mind. She was a pirate through and through; and it was time to make good on that choice.

A city guard hollered at her to keep moving. She merely rolled her eyes. The guard was not unfamiliar, he was one that Vev, the governor, often had spying on her whereabouts. Yet another reason to leave. If everyone could only see her as a no-good slinkabout, may as well live up to the accusations.

Vev would doubtless try to keep her from leaving. Better an imprisoned pirate than one on the loose.

Without acknowledging the guard, she spun on her heel and headed for the slums with renewed purpose. She’d like to see anyone try to stop her. Rue Waterby was going home.