Anara
by Lucie Ruggiero
Roasted card mackerel. Its heavenly scent filled Anara’s nose. The bartender had just slapped two heaping plates of it on a table beside Anara. If she leaned over far enough, she could grab the top fish off the plate. She seriously considered it for a moment, but she had come here for a reason, and she wasn’t about to risk her freedom for the sake of one fish. The last time she had tried stealing someone’s food, the whole tavern had chased her half the night.
Anara scanned the room, spotting two tables behind a group of rowdy card players. She would be less noticeable in the far back. Pulling her hood lower on her face, she waded through the haze of smoke and body odor to the far table. She was glad it was so crowded. This way, no one would pay attention to her. No one would have any reason to arrest her today. The dull roar of conversation, laughter, and clanking silverware hummed around her, making her head throb. This would be a horrible place for someone to mistake her for a rebel.
The door banged open, and another rowdy group sauntered in. Pirates. Most came to drown their failures, but these looked practically buoyant with success. Anara leaned in. This could be her lucky night. After three days with no success, she couldn’t afford to mess this up. She also couldn’t afford to be wrong. Her spine tingled with the possibility. Whatever they had must be a valuable prize. Nothing made pirates happier than the promise of gold-filled pockets.
The captain stepped up to the counter. “Ale for each of us, nothing special,” he said, scanning the room with calculating eyes.
“Aw, come on, captain!” One of the crew stepped up indignantly. “We deserve the finest drink this side of the Baikans for what we accomplished.”
“Silence!” The captain’s face darkened. “You would be wise to keep your mouth shut, Lorenzo.” He ushered his men to a table in the same secluded corner where Anara sat. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued, “We won’t get anything but a rope around our throats if this cargo is stolen. We are not in clear water yet. Only once the cargo is put directly in the hands of the commander will I even think about celebrating our success.”
The captain stood. “Well? Who wants a drink?”
His crew silently trailed after him.
Anara waited until they had settled down with drink and conversation before sneaking back out of the tavern.
Cargo. Cargo valuable enough to warrant a hanging if it wasn’t delivered. This was her lucky night indeed. She only hoped she could carry it.
…
Anara stepped onto the road. Little puffs of reddish dirt rose where her feet made contact with the sandstone. The darkness surrounded her, but she felt at home in this dim, bluish light. No one would or could stare at her here. She walked in the middle of the road, savoring her freedom. She passed by the closed stands where earlier, vendors had sold their fruit and fish beneath the blazing sun. Now it was quiet. Now it was dark. Nighttime brought with it the day of thieves.
A man was walking up from the wharf. Anara ducked into the shadow of an alleyway. The man passed so close she could smell his sweat, although that could have been quite far, considering how strongly he reeked. Anara stifled a gag. The man had stopped just beyond her hiding spot. She tensed, shrinking herself as small as possible against the wall. He was turning toward her. He raised a fist and brought it down hard on the shutters of one of the shops. The thud shattered the night. He continued to pound, making Anara’s ears wither. She was just wondering if she might be able to sneak by him without him noticing when the second-floor window flew open with a clatter. A lantern poked out, closely followed by a bony arm and an even more skeletal-looking face. Anara shrank further into her protective shadow.
“Well?” the old woman yelled croakily down at the man, “What do you want? It’s past my bedtime, so make it snappy!”
He seemed slow on the uptake. “Do yuh rent dinghies?”
“Yeah, I do, what of it?”
“Wull just finished loadin’ uh boat an’ it’s offshore an’ all, so…”
“Spit it out! Some of us like to sleep around here! I haven’t got all night.”
“Wull I need tuh rent uh dinghy fur tomorrow mornin’ real early, so I was wonderin’…”
“There’s a dinghy at dock six you can use, just go away!” and with that, the old woman slammed the window shut with gusto.
The man stood there for a moment, then shuffled away, mumbling to himself.
Once she could no longer smell his sweat or hear his muttering, Anara left her hiding place and continued toward the water.
Anara melted into the shadow of the last house on the street. Here was the tricky part. The houses and shops were set back some twenty paces from the docks, leaving a wide swath of road where she would be plainly visible to anyone walking in that area. The captain wasn’t stupid, he surely left some of his crew behind to guard the ship. If she was seen, she’d be in chains as soon as they removed her hood. But if she didn’t get that cargo, things would be just as bleak.
Anara frowned. Why are there no lights on the docks? Wait. There, moving along the far end of the wharf. A man carrying a lantern stepped from behind a large ship. He turned back and spoke with someone Anara couldn’t see. She cursed softly. More than one guard meant if she was noticed, she’d be caught for sure.
Movement. Anara turned, but there was nothing there. It must have been her imagination; the darkness playing tricks on her eyes. She willed herself to focus.
Anara crouched behind a stack of crates that smelled pungently of fish. The docks were packed with boats tonight. Hordes of merchants came to Agora for the day trade, but the town was dead by sundown. The enforced curfew began once the patrol arrived from the nearby Carellion camp, and no one stayed outside after dark to test their luck. No one, that is, except Anara. She shivered a little from the salty night breeze. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The curfew patrol would come any minute, and that slimmed her chances even further of escaping unseen.
Logic was telling her two things. The first was that her plan was stupidly dangerous. The second was that if she didn’t get whatever that valuable cargo was, her chances of leaving Agora would be non-existent. Anara shifted her weight so her feet wouldn’t fall asleep. She’d been stuck in Agora too long. It was hard enough finding food without the added danger of being caught by the night patrol. This could be her only chance to get away from here for good. Anara pulled her hood low over her face and moved out of the shadows.
“Stop!” a commanding voice broke through the darkness.
Anara froze mid-step. Already? She hadn’t even fully left her hiding spot.
“Show yourself if you don’t want to be turned in for breaking curfew!”
Anara realized the voice was coming from a distance. He hadn’t seen her. He must be talking to someone else. Anara peeped over the edge of the fish crate. The man was the same one she’d seen before, at the far end of the docks. He had his back turned and his lantern raised towards the trees, which marked the beginning of the scrubby woods at the end of the wharf. This was her chance.
Anara dashed along the docks, as close to the water’s edge as possible, to avoid being seen by the rest of those on guard behind the ship. Her feet fell quickly, light and silent on the ground. At the same time, Anara noticed a shadow climbing the side of the pirates’ ship. Another thief? Anara clenched her teeth and ran faster. Reaching the ship, she began to climb up the side. The wood was rough under her bare hands, and the ship swayed, making balancing tricky.
“Hey, Erika, I saw a light in the woods, should we go check it out?” The man with the lantern was talking to the other guard.
“Leave it be, Jamal.” The woman’s voice–Erika, Anara presumed–was hoarse, like the grinding of two stones. “It’s probably just some fisherman sneaking out after curfew. We’d be wasting our time. Besides, no one knows about the map except us.”
Jamal still sounded unsure; “Are you sure there’s no chance that someone found out? I think maybe we should check around the docks again.”
“We’d see if someone was in the captain’s quarters–the windows, remember? And the captain said to stay by the ship. Do you really want to disobey his direct orders?”
“I guess you’re right.”
All of a sudden, Anara’s foothold faltered, and she slid on the slick planks. She gasped as her hands took all of her weight. Clinging to the ship like a barnacle, she searched for another foothold. Her arms shook from the strain of holding herself up. After what felt like ages, her foot found a firm hold again. Her hands shook as she continued to climb. Something hairy brushed her fingers. She snatched her hand back, but it was only a very old, seaweed encrusted rope. She almost laughed as she grabbed it, but her confidence was still shaken. Gripping the rope so hard her hands began to numb, she pulled herself onto the deck of the ship.
So, a map was what this valuable cargo was. Anara wondered what could be so important about a map. She sat for a moment, rubbing her sore hands against her breeches, then stood.
The map would be kept in the captain’s quarters. Anara looked around the deck of the ship. She had seen countless ships come into port, but she had never been on one. This plan was falling apart faster than she could come up with it.
Through a crack in the deck, Anara saw a muffled light moving. The other thief! The map must be below-deck. The best plan of action would be to follow the other thief and hope she could get the map before they did.
Below deck, the boat groaned and creaked. Anara felt even dizzier. She walked along the narrow hallway, listening for any sign of the other thief. A clink. Small but audible. There it was again. She crept forward, shoulders tense. There was a door at the end of the hallway. Through its window, she saw a sliver of light. She tip-toed forward and looked through.
A boy of around sixteen–not much older than her–stood, blue face illuminated by a covered lantern on the navigation table. Anara gasped. The last time she’d seen a dauf was when her parents left. He must be part of the rebellion. She’d seen the wanted posters for rebel leaders and dauvish convicts, but it had been a long time since she’d seen someone who looked so similar to her in person.
The boy held a scrap of paper up to the light, no bigger than Anara’s hands put together. The map. Anara sighed a little. It looked rather unimpressive. Old, maybe, but other than that, unremarkable. It will be worth it. So long as I’m not caught.
Anara waited, flat against the wall, as the boy packed up the map. He opened the door slowly, silent as a spider. The leather map-container was in the hand closer to Anara. She seized the chance. Ducking out from the shadows, she grabbed the map. The boy’s split-second of surprise was enough to give Anara the edge. She raced towards the ladder as quietly as she could. He was hot on her heels. Anara slipped the map into a bag on her belt and grabbed a rung of the ladder. Halfway up, he grabbed her foot. She shook him off and climbed faster.
Anara threw herself onto the deck, crashing into a stack of barrels. They tumbled on top of her, making a huge racket in the process. One fell directly on Anara’s ankle. She yelped as the heavy barrel rolled off her foot.
“Hey! Who’s there?” Erika yelled. “Come on, Jamal, I think we have a trespasser.”
Anara scrambled to the gangplank and pushed off the ship. Erika yelled a curse.
“Get the captain, Jamal! There’s a thief on board!”
“But what if they get away…?”
“Just go! I’ll make sure they don’t escape.”
Anara heard the sound of a cocked pistol. Oh no. She raced across the deck, side-stepping barrels. She could jump into the water and hide beneath one of the docks if she just–a hand grabbed the hood of her cloak just as she was about to jump. She jerked back, hood falling off, and turned. Before she could pull her hood back up, the second thief saw her face. His eyes widened in surprise.
“But–wait–you’re dauvish? But, you’re not part of the–who are you?”
Anara froze. Erika had climbed the side of the ship. Her broad silhouette loomed tall.
Anara’s ears exploded. A flash of fire shot towards the sky from Erika’s pistol, and suddenly Anara was falling through the air. Her head rang from the sound of the pistol shot. Everything was spinning.
Water hit Anara’s face full force as she crashed into the sea. Salt filled her mouth. She kicked upwards and surfaced, gasping for air. This is ridiculous. She paddled towards the nearest dock. Clinging to the slimy pylon, she tried to catch her breath. Through the ringing in her ears, she could vaguely make out the sound of Erika yelling. Then thundering footsteps. More shouts. More confusion. More dizziness.
She stayed wrapped around the pylon for a while, just letting the water lap up and down. She breathed deep. In and out, push and pull. Her hearing was beginning to come back. She opened her eyes and listened.
The patrol had arrived. The docks were in a state of confusion. Guards were yelling about curfew, and the captain from the tavern was yelling back about special privileges. They didn’t seem to know yet that she’d stolen the map, but it was only a matter of time. She needed to move. Once they started searching, she’d have little chance of escape. They’d probably wake half the town if the map was as valuable as the captain had said. She let go of the pylon and swam further away from the pirates’ ship.
The next dock was different from the others. Most had one ship docked, but this one had many small boats and dinghies. Dinghies. The word rang a bell. She looked at the dock number. Dock six! This was the one the old lady told the sweaty seaman he could get a dinghy from. And there! Anchored in the harbor! The boat he’d said was leaving first thing tomorrow. Maybe she could hitch a ride.
The Lighthouse 